


Chapter 13: Periapsis

by grayorca15, TheShadowsmiths



Series: DBHI: Equilibrium [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Christmas Party, DBHIlluminate, Gen, M/M, Nine9, Polyamory, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, anti-deviant sentiment, dbhiequilibrium, mlm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca15/pseuds/grayorca15, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowsmiths/pseuds/TheShadowsmiths
Summary: Noahcrashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in a couple of months, but the mood is spoiled whenthe Zionist Inquisitionshows up to deliver an ultimatum toVincent Sharp, and issue a threat to anyone who would dare support the installation of an android suburb in Washington, DC.***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, please see our Wiki entry on our Amino page.
Relationships: Original Android Character(s)/Original Android Character(s) (Detroit: Become Human), RK900 Android(s) (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Character(s), Rk900 / RK900
Series: DBHI: Equilibrium [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567135
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Noriel" playlist --- [[ "Noriel" on Spotify ]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6z6O4U0s0U0BI0DyZRziON?si=nDSteXRkS86W8IpcE0U4cg)
> 
> If you like our work, please consider [[ joining our discord ]](https://discord.gg/AfteugU) for a catalogue of character bios and a glossary of terms, or dropping by [[ Detroit: New ERA ]](https://discord.gg/ec69ttR)'s Discord and the [[ Detroit: Become Human Official Amino ]](https://aminoapps.com/c/detroitbecomhumanofficial/page/user/dbh-illuminate/Bvad_jPsbfozYpNPN1j2aeQNde3eEED2RZ) to let the MODs know! It would really help us out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah crashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in a couple of months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this on:  
>  **Tumblr** : [[ Periapsis pt.1 ]]()  
>  **Deviantart** : [[ Periapsis pt.1 ]]()  
>  **Amino** : [[ Periapsis pt.1 ]]()  
>  **Wattpad** : [[ Periapsis pt.1 ]]()  
>  **FanFiction.net** : [[ Periapsis pt.1 ]]()
> 
> "Noriel" playlist --- [[ "Noriel" on Spotify ]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6z6O4U0s0U0BI0DyZRziON?si=nDSteXRkS86W8IpcE0U4cg)
> 
> If you like our work, please consider [[ joining our discord ]](https://discord.gg/AfteugU) for a catalogue of character bios and a glossary of terms, or dropping by [[ Detroit: New ERA ]](https://discord.gg/ec69ttR)'s Discord and the [[ Detroit: Become Human Official Amino ]](https://aminoapps.com/c/detroitbecomhumanofficial/page/user/dbh-illuminate/Bvad_jPsbfozYpNPN1j2aeQNde3eEED2RZ) to let the MODs know! It would really help us out!

**December 23rd, 2041 - 9:45 PM**

From the outside, the looming auditorium locally known as _The_ _Mellon_ was unchanged. Whatever techno-aesthetics the Capitol had adopted in the last two decades, Washington, DC’s architecture was still mostly the same neoclassical Roman-inspired drivel the Founding Fathers probably thought the height of grandeur that any respectable city could model itself after. This particular building was very much a product of its time- a perfect encapsulation of the stiff right angles, thick brooding columns, and bleak texture-less walls, suggested nothing of what might actually be happening beyond the foyer.  
The red-green cutout projections of trees and reindeer and ornaments dancing over the _Columbia_ pediment sculpted across its tented promenade and the delicate string instruments currently honoring an orchestral cover of one of a hundred classic Christmas songs was a hint though.

Noah stepped out of the Jaguar to be accosted by a shower of holographic white and blue snowflakes, mixed with the real life equivalent wafting about that cold winter’s night. They swarmed like his very own plague of too-friendly gnats. Whatever property-wide projection program the event had been accentuated with, the programmer had evidently spent too much time re-watching _Frozen_ as a child.  
He pulled his sunglasses down just far enough to peer over the lenses as a few flakes fluttered in, close enough for him to see their individual fractals, and gave an irritated huff through his nose. “Still bitter over the demise of Disney, I see.” A few seconds later, the shy valet swept around the roadster’s red taillights and apologized profusely for a near-nonexistent delay in offering to take the car to be parked. Noah felt nothing but amusement at their blathering, patted him on the shoulder and held the door open. “Quit fussing. It’s early yet, and you’ve a lot more rides to tuck in before the night’s over. Treat this one like the queen she is and there’ll be an extra fifty in it for you… Fredrick.”

The kitschy light-show and dear hapless Fred weren’t as bothersome as the front ranks of guards posted at the velvet rope-fenced entrance. The nearest man put up a hand and stopped him in his tracks at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a charity function for contributors only. Have you made a donation?”  
It seemed only pre-approved guests were being permitted inside- a slight oversight on his part, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from his goal. He had a conversation to close out.

Noah popped his brows and donned a charming smile as he presented the falsified credentials, nestled in a flip-fold ID bearing the name Erwin L. Yvonne, complete with the most abhorrent manipulation of his likeness ever produced.   
“Not to worry, gents. I’m _intimately_ acquainted with the curator, Mr. Sharp, and I’m here to deliver my contribution _in the flesh_.”   
Everything about the little white lie he’d spun on a whim was unnatural to him, but convincing to the two confused humans - _poor, overworked and underpaid minions as they probably were_ \- relaying questions into their headsets. After a few moments of conferring with whoever was heading security ( _most likely the Special Agents in charge of the sting this event was a front for_ ), they motioned him through for a pat-down just beyond the rope.  
Noah didn’t bother feeling offended at them for only doing as they were instructed, but he did have a little fun making them as uncomfortable as possible as they searched his person for weapons. If his disguise, an old favorite thrown together on such short notice, held up to that much, then the rest would be a cakewalk- not that he had ever harbored a desire to _actually_ go skipping through a fully-stocked dessert table.   
As fun as it sounded, he had enough messes splashed all over his _real_ name without adding another to the list.

To his relief, the reach of the holographic snowflakes stopped at the door, and vanished as he crossed the threshold of the foyer. The marble floor of the lobby had been buffed and waxed to a soft shine, and was still holding up to the foot traffic four hours after the meet’s commencement. Noah only paid enough mind to the guests still loitering about in groups no larger than six people to disinterestedly scan their faces at a glance and assign his background processes the menial task of matching names and dossiers to them. At the moment, he was far too focused on finding the one disguised face among them who was of any real importance to care about much else.

 _Mr. Vincent Sharp._ Or should he say, _Gabriel Reed_. 

The main hall was a wide, cavernous space, with rows of columns standing off to either side. Gold leaf sconced wall lamps provided an accentuating glow compared to the three giant chandeliers of brass and aluminum that bathed the room in ambient light. The dazzling light-show playing outdoors was only outdone by the splendor of one thirty foot tall balsam fir erected in the center of the floor, adorned with no less than one hundred feet of multicolored string lights, dozens of strands of tinsel, swaths of garland, and a few hundred bauble ornaments. The topper, a white tinsel angel with glittery wings, faced the entrance with its hands pressed together and head bowed as if to thank all who arrived.  
A few outlying rings of cocktail tables surrounded the roped-off centerpiece. Those guests who weren’t conversing had taken seats to sip champagne or nibble on appetizers while they caught up on their gossip. Each cloth-covered table possessed its own small topper of a larger holographic projection of snowflakes hanging stationary in midair, which constantly shifted from one pattern to the next, spinning like a globe on a stand whenever a curious hand reached out to ‘tap’ them.

A small stage nestled in an alcove against the back of the ballroom, hosted the classical band ( _ruled by one full size concert piano_ ) who looked as superfluous as the snowflakes that had greeted him outside. They wound through the last chorus of _Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire_ as he descended the staircase, before starting back up with _Jingle Bell Rock.  
_ Between the cello and violins, Noah’s hypersensitive ear detected at least three strings in need of tightening before he shunted that note aside to take a backseat with the rest of his anxieties. He hadn’t spent two hours biting his knuckles over ever approaching the _Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium_ just to show up and critique its acoustic entertainment.

It wasn’t until a few curious eyes had turned his way, nodded and bid him good evening, that Noah realized how entirely inappropriate it was to be wearing sunglasses indoors, much less an event so high-class. The rest of his ensemble was tame enough- a dark navy blue suit bearing pointed lapels and a Zion sigil pin, complimented by a black dress shirt and loafers. The mild dose of glitter effect ( _same as could be found on the snow outside_ ) projected into his black hair, accented with blue highlights, wasn’t as much of an affront as the pair of Ray Bans. Before anyone could make much of a fuss about it, he pulled them off and stashed the specs in his jacket’s breast pocket; in this kind of crowd, acting appropriate was of the utmost priority.  
Except when it wasn’t.  
Off to the left was a fully stocked pop-up bar- heads of the handful of people standing near it were turned away, giving off all manner of unapproachable vibes, including the only familiar silhouette in the room. Noah fought back a smirk when he spotted one particular set of ears before the facial recognition software even kicked in. As much as he would have loved to surprise him with his presence, he knew better than to sneak up on the owner of said ear. The last time he’d done so, Noah had wound up laid out over the fragments of his former coffee table, and he wasn’t eager to experience the _cocktail hour_ equivalent of that encounter. 

A half-hearted sweep of the room offered a few other suggestions of anything amiss, and that conclusion was about as dull as dishwater. Noah wasn’t really feeling making a scene with another guest ( _this event was far too classy for such delinquency_ ), nor was he feeling at all confident enough to steal the mic off its stand and serenade the entire room. But that Christmas tree… it was giving off far too many signals to only be rigged with illumination accents. On his optical spectrum, a cloud of static encircled the poor displaced flora from top to bottom, a few of which were emitting from little lens-capped nodes disguised as burnt-out bulbs along the string.  
He drifted over casually and leaned in as if to admire his reflection in one of the gold metallic baubles, then carefully reached past the rope to twist and unplug one of the planted camera bulbs like plucking a petal off a flower. The fir gave only a whisper-quiet _tink_ at this attack. The light strand continued to blink and cycle away, regardless of the missing piece.  
Noah held it up to eye level with a triumphant, yet mischievous grin. He knew _exactly_ who was on the other side of the monitor observing the footage.

And having the most important discussion of the holiday season. On the other end of the feed, tucked away in the off-limits green rooms of the hall, Special Agent Reed was too busy engaging in one of his favorite pastimes of discussing classic action flicks with the unbaptized to notice that one of their cameras was moving.   
“I’m tellin’ you, man, _Die Hard_ is THE Christmas movie, and if you don’t agree you’re just _wrong_.”  
“No way,” a second agent argued, “Bruce Willis himself denied that shit more than twenty years ago…”  
Reed let out a laugh that bordered on mocking, shook his head, and gestured to the man with one scolding finger lifted off his coffee cup. “ _John McClane_ would disagree-“  
“ _Hey_! Dumbasses! Stay focused!”  
Director Thomas Falken _-who had insisted on overseeing the sting himself, in the event that something went horribly wrong_ \- barked at the yapping men with a threatening leer that snapped Gavin’s head around and back into focus. On the feed of one of the bulb-cameras, an unrecognizable man rolled the glass node between his fingertips like a gem, and smirked as he held it up to the light. Reed’s brow furrowed in distress as he mumbled “What the _fuck_ …?”, then swiped the walkie off the counter to relay the information. “Gabe.”  
_“What is it, Reed?”_

All done up in the most swank cocktail suit anyone would ever see him in, ‘ _Vincent Sharp’_ turned, then leaned with his back against the bar and nursed a drink as he scanned the room through half-framed, squared-off, horn rimmed glasses. One idle hand reached to throw back the hem of the tweed charcoal gray blazer, exposed the light brown waistcoat hugging his waist and hips, and slipped into the pocket of a pair of perfectly tailored, black slim-legged slacks.   
_“We may have trouble, one of our spy cams has been compromised.”  
_ Gabe tipped back his head and emptied the glass in his hand to smother the outward reaction of surprise, then set it down on the counter and gestured to the bartender for another. Rather than reach for any of the bottles displayed on the back counter, she went for a decanter on the shelf below the bar and refilled the glass with a burgundy brown liquid- thirium, distilled and dyed to mimic the appearance of Scotch.   
"Just one?” he asked in a curious tone as he searched the crowd around the tree. From his vantage point, he couldn’t clearly see anyone acting suspiciously.   
“ _Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing… little shit’s just holdin’ it up and grinnin’ like he knows we’re here…”  
_And that he did. The harsh whisper to emanate over the commandeered camera’s mic said as much:

_Good evening, Special Agent Reed. Fancy seeing you here._

From the other side of the room, Gabriel’s head turned a tic at the sound of crashing equipment and a few muttered ‘ _shit Shit, SHIT’s_ coming from the other end of the frequency he was currently tuned to. Like a bull in a china shop.

“How does he know you’re _here…_ !?” Falken - _known in his social circles as Tomahawk, for good reason_ \- boomed from across the room as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the monitors. He shoved Reed’s chair aside, and scrutinized the face of the man making a mockery of their carefully planted monitoring equipment.  
Gavin’s heels scraped against the hardwood as he backpedaled and held his hands up in surrender. “I- I- I don’t… I don’t know, I didn’t tell _anyone_ , I swear-”  
“Then _who is THAT_?” Falken punctuated with a slam of his palm against the monitor that made everyone in the room jump.  
“That’s… that’s, uh-...” He could explain _that_ , but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. No matter how he looked at it, he was to blame for his presence that evening. His negligence had compromised months of careful planning.

“ _... Gavin?”  
_ His target rose from a table toward the front of the ballroom and directed his attention toward the bar, leering with the clear intent of starting a conversation. What impeccably bad timing for _this_ to go down.  
“ _Reed! Talk to me!”_

Gabriel’s intrusion provided him with the convenient excuse he needed to disengage for a moment. One visibly-shaking hand swiped the walkie off the desk and Gavin turned to break away from the glower of Falken’s death-glare long enough to respond to his partner in the field. The other hand ran through his hair with a nervous twitch in his fingers and he glanced over his shoulder as he cleared his throat and swallowed, then mumbled, “It’s-... it’s Noah,” under his breath just loud enough for him to hear.

Gabe’s thought processes came to a screeching halt as his personal life collided with his alias for just a moment. To hear that Noah was in Washington, DC, much less _at the Zion Founders Fundraiser,_ was the last thing he’d expected to hear that evening.   
As Reed continued to drop curses in the background, Gabe turned to face the bar and flashed a polite, but forced smile at the bartender as she eyed him with nervous sweeps. He didn’t reach for the glass right away as it was set in front of him on a small black napkin.  
“Please, tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I did…” he muttered internally as a dozen different possibilities for how the night would turn out flashed thumb-nailed pre-constructions across his HUD.  
But Reed’s uncomfortable sputtering confirmed what he was hoping was just a joke. 

“No, you heard me right.”   
One hand swiped over his face in a downward motion and scratched in frustration at the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave in almost a week and desperately avoided Falken’s infuriated ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ gestures in the background. “The bastard’s actually here, arrived in DC last night with Hannah and President Elect Kamski. H-he stopped by the house lookin’ for you, but I told him you were undercover an’couldn’t make an appointment. I told him t’keep his nose outta our shit, but he-”   
Reed paused and squinted over Falken’s shoulder as Noah slipped the tiny camera into his pocket with a _‘Can you hear me alright in there?’  
_ “Oh, _son of a_ …”   
“What the hell is he doing…?”

The camera-bulb didn’t act as a walkie. And to their credit, all the personnel Noah could plainly see - _now that his recognition software had sorted fact from fiction_ \- didn’t stir, much less blow their cover. He knew without being told what this sting was about, and who it was the FBI were really here to keep tabs on. Perhaps him showing up was akin to being a ‘fly in the ointment’, but as yet he hadn’t done anything other than offend their Christmas tree.  
He gave the indifferent lens one more wordless glance as he rolled the bulb between his fingers. For a brief moment he considered winking at it, but decided at the last moment to pocket the device instead. Perhaps it’d come in handy elsewhere- for someone who hadn’t been properly equipped for this operation, it was the best he could do on such short notice. Failing that, he could always speak very loudly and deliberately at Gabriel’s collar mic, if he’d let him get close enough.  
The owner of the ear he recognized from before still hadn’t turned around. Outwardly he didn’t look very distressed. Only the new hunch in his shoulders, invisible to the human eye as it was, said it all. Far be it from him to keep ‘Vincent’ in suspense.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah’s long-awaited reunion with Gabriel is interrupted by the target of his alias, Diego Serrano- a former Cyberlife employee suspected of funding [the Zionist Inquisition](https://aminoapps.com/c/detroitbecomhumanofficial/page/item/dbh-illuminate-glossary-of-terminology-events/aW2D_eGf8Inbp3MlMwLrg1xWBWzpx2NWxJ).
> 
> ***[For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, please see our Wiki entry on our Amino page.](https://aminoapps.com/c/detroitbecomhumanofficial/page/item/dbh-illuminate-glossary-of-terminology-events/aW2D_eGf8Inbp3MlMwLrg1xWBWzpx2NWxJ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this on:  
>  **Tumblr** : [[ Periapsis pt.2 ]]()  
>  **Deviantart** : [[ Periapsis pt.2 ]]()  
>  **Amino** : [[ Periapsis pt.2 ]]()  
>  **Wattpad** : [[ Periapsis pt.2 ]]()  
>  **FanFiction.net** : [[ Periapsis pt.2 ]]()
> 
> "Noriel" playlist --- [[ "Noriel" on Spotify ]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6z6O4U0s0U0BI0DyZRziON?si=nDSteXRkS86W8IpcE0U4cg)

**December 23rd, 2041 - 10:07 PM**

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but then again, if had known Noah was in town, he would have expected him to pull a stunt like this. It never _had_ been his style to keep his nose out of his business, even if it was work-related.  
_Especially_ if it was work-related.

“ _You should have known better than to tell that peacock to stay away from the perfect opportunity to crow_ ,” Gabe retorted with an audible groan as he reached for the drink and stared into the glass. By now he knew him well enough to know that telling Noah Maitkin _not_ to do something was a surefire way to guarantee he would do exactly what he didn’t want him to; unfortunately, that knowledge had not yet transferred to his handler. It had been different when he had the structure of Archangel to keep his bratty impulses in check, but after Boston and the outbreak, he was so rattled to the core that the thought to cut corners almost never occurred to him anymore. So the fact that he was here, _now_ , in spite of that, meant one of two things-  
Either he was feeling like his old self again, free of any legal constraints his former occupation once imposed, or this was yet another sign the _RK900_ needed a shitton more therapy and conditioning to be considered stable again. Just what good did he think charity-crashing would do?

Falken’s rage seethed in the background as he and Gavin continued their back and forth. All it took was his tone for Gabriel to picture with perfect clarity, the piercing, emerald-eyed scowl set in deep sockets, shadowed by his strong brow. It wasn’t a look anyone wanted to find themselves on the other end of, especially not if ‘Tomahawk’ was looking for a good fight, which was the intent of being present that evening. He had wanted to be there in case something went awry so he could take care of it himself. Any reason to fight got him excited- you could take the kid out of Boston, but Boston’s fury came with him.   
Reed groaned in defense as the conversation wound down. “ _He must’ve snagged the address from my laptop when I wasn’t lookin’ when he stopped by. FUCKIN’ Androids…_ ”  
_“Yeah, well- great job on keepin’ this shit on the down-low,”_ he mocked, “ _Keep me updated on his position. Serrano is making his approach-_ ”  
“ _Uh, yeah, about that...”  
_Before Reed could get the warning out, trouble had sat itself in the vacant space beside Gabe to lean down and knock an elbow against his arm.

 _Hey there. Not gonna toss me like a rag doll this time, are you?  
_ Gabe wrestled with every ounce of self-restraint available to not roll his eyes but failed miserably. It was definitely him, the glitter in his hair and the coy little smirk playing at his lips were the deadest of giveaways; but, as tired as it made him feel to look at, Noah seemed a far cry better off than the last time they’d spoken on the phone, just after he’d been let go from Archangel.  
Being noticeably sober helped tremendously, too.  
“What are you doing ‘ere, _mon chéri?”_ Gabe scoffed in a perfectly practiced accent as he lifted the glass to his lips.  
“Pft. What does it look like, _monsieur_?” The mocking inflection pinned at the end seemed as genuinely annoyed as it didn’t; it was unclear if it was Noah speaking or his assumed identity, it had been a long three months since they had last _seen_ each other. Noah waited all of three more seconds for an answer before he leaned in again, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, _uncomfortably close_ , as he always tended to get. The smirk didn’t abate. “I’ve counted all of one old friend of yours in this room, and you can’t even greet me…? The least you could do is say hello.”

 _Get. Him. OUT OF HERE._ Falken didn’t hesitate to let him know where he stood on Noah’s interference in the matter, but Gabriel brushed off the disgruntled agent’s protests with a scoff. He’d handle Noah himself, but first, he had a few questions.

 _I mean, why are you in DC?_ he tried again as he slipped deep brown eyes aside to peer over the tops of his glasses at him. “Are you ‘ere to make a donation? Or did you just come to’ave a drink with _moi_?” The French-Canadian accent didn’t waver- Gabriel’s alias was a complete overhaul, head to toe to _voice_ , all of which made Noah giddy as a schoolgirl.   
To his credit, he kept his own mask under control. “Oh, _honestly_ , you can stop playing coy any time now, Vinnie... it wasn’t like I added _myself_ to the guest list.” Whatever surprise he must have felt, Noah covered it by drawing back to playfully bat at his arm again. “Trust me, your doormen were just as surprised to see me as I was to get the invite.” The tip of his tongue passed subconsciously over the point of his canine tooth as his gaze lingered on the peculiar choice in corsage instead of the undercover agent’s face. If he didn’t know any better, the tuft of Mistletoe was as good as a dare, but the pause he took to appreciate it would have to suffice for acceptance. With a small sigh, he popped both brows and resettled his gaze. “Drinks, donations, I’ll get to it when I get to it. You know better than to rush me.”  
Privately, he sounded much less cavalier: _Is the ‘why’ really important?  
_ It really wasn’t, as much as the answer to why he was _there_ , but the answer to both worried Gabe in equal measure.   
_Why aren’t you with Hannah_? 

Put on the spot about his markedly-better half, the playfulness deflated. It was no secret Noah hadn’t been at his significant other’s side throughout the majority of the campaign ( _too caught up with his own investigations until two months prior, when he’d been fired from Archangel for his misbehavior at a press conference following the Red Raids_ ), and the speculation as to why ran rampant. Now, given the way his jaw went tight and the smirk became a bit strained, it was fair to say tonight wasn’t all champagne and canoodling behind the political scene.  
Instead, here he was.  
Yvonne leaned in again and blatantly tried to shrug it off, propped one elbow up, and bumped a knee against Gabe’s beneath the countertop, face tilted to one side to peer upward through the tops of his eyes. _Uh,_ because _she’s booked, as you can imagine. Working on post-election nonsense with the President-Elect- meet-and-greets, what else? Anyway, I’m here now and I want to help.  
_ Which was essentially code for ‘this affair sounded infinitely more exciting, so behold- myself’.  
_“_ There’ll be time for commiserating later.”

_NO, don’t let him stick around- Falken is chomping at the bit to get out there and pull him out himself. If he has to do that, it won’t be pretty._

“ _En fait_ ,” Vincent replied with a far-off look in his eye that was actually directed over his companion’s shoulder at his slowly approaching target; luckily, Serrano had stopped to converse with another familiar face for the moment, so Gabe shifted focus back to the man at his side. _You haven’t been briefed and you’re not prepared_ , he scolded in a neutral tone, more factual than condescending, in an attempt to dissuade him from staying. _This man has been investigating me for two months, and tonight is my chance to find out if he’s connected to the Zionist Inquisition. Anything you say or do could trace you back to my real identity, and that would destroy all the work we’ve put in on this case. Do you have a cover story…? A well-established alias…?  
_ The smirk dropped, as did another degree of humor in Noah’s eyes. Maybe he realized the gravity of the situation, or maybe he wasn’t as into playing the incessant flirt as he used to be. Either way, the seriousness amped up to compensate. _Please. You think it’s the first time I’ve had to fake it to the inth degree to get close to someone? Just ask Miles next time you’re in Miami._ Noah paid a brief glance over his shoulder before offering one hand with the skin peeled back. “Bygones be bygones? I can keep my joy at seeing you again limited to a handshake if that’s more your speed.”  
Not to mention it would make trading read-only files regarding each other’s disguises a cinch.  
Gabriel exhaled through his nose, closed his eyes, and reached out one of his gloved hands to set over the top of his. “ _C’est… d’accord_ ,” he assured, his accent softer than before. “I just did not expect to see you tonight.” Fingers curled softly around Noah’s as he flattened his palm against the countertop- beneath the fabric, the skin on his hand peeled away to initiate the exchange of dossiers, but a quick glance told him he was donning a well-loved persona, one he was already quite familiar with from old Archangel files. “South Miami is a long way from DC, _monsieur Yvonne_.”

The protesting from the other end of the connection simmered down as the story came together. From the sound of it, Gavin had already realized what he knew.

‘Yvonne’ smirked again. If it wasn’t a wide, mischievous leer before, it was now. He read through the false identity of Vincent Sharp in a second and apparently liked what he saw. “Not necessarily. You only wish it were true, right? Far enough to think making an in-person contribution would be too big a request...? But my dear- it’s _Christmas_ , and when was the last time I had the opportunity to see you?”  
_You skipped the part about making ‘Vincent’ seem like a person,_ he chided with an unspoken ‘tsk’. _Where’s the subsection titled ‘love life’?  
_ Gabriel narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, looking more skeptical than scowly like he’d intended. _They didn’t think it necessary for someone so focused on business to be in a committed relationship_ , he quipped back as he forced a curling grin. “You _would_ choose ze holidays as an excuse to venture north… and a cocktail party to try and reconnect.”   
Gabe’s focus darted down as Noah’s fingers spread to thread with his. It seemed he already had plans for what to make of their shared history, and he wasn’t sure he approved. The nonverbal suggestions he was sending made him uncomfortable.   
Vincent drew in a nervous breath and tilted his head with a soft shake, but Yvonne persisted.   
“Please… like I’m the first man in history to ever stoop to that tactic,” he drawled, not sounding abashed at all, and gave his hand a squeeze as he lifted and planted a soft kiss on the man’s curled-over knuckles. “You make it sound like a crime.”  
_All puns intended, for the record._

He could hear Falken’s dissatisfied bitching in the background of Gavin’s warning. _He’s dressing, you’ve got about ten minutes before he storms in there like goddamn Hurricane Tommy and forcibly removes him.  
_ A timer helpfully projected itself over the upper left corner of his HUD, counting backward from ten. _Just… just give me a minute. Hold him off for as long as you can.  
_ _I’m tryin’._

‘Vincent’ swallowed hard and turned his eyes down in shame as he switched back to his conversation with Noah. _This is your idea for our shared history…?_   
_Why not…?_ _You don’t think you could hack it?_ Noah’s brow furrowed and the smile faded to better sell the lie, though there was a thin layer of truth to the question as well. “... are you still embarrassed to be seen with me?”  
Vincent’s lack of response, and eye contact, told him everything he needed to know. Palpable irritation announced itself in the form of pursed lips and a tightened grip.  
Yvonne met it with a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, _come now-_ you’re practically funding the founding of Zion, DC yourself... you can’t tell me that isn’t because you’ve had a change of heart on the matter of...” For a moment he hesitated. Noah’s chin quivered noticeably before he added, “... didn’t you miss me even a little?”  
An equally-heavy sigh escaped his companion in response, and he glanced out of the corners of his lenses to stare at their hands. It was no coincidence that particular bit of improvised backstory, he drew from reality. The intent, even with roles flip-flopped, wasn’t altogether different. Now Gabriel was the respected investigator and Noah was the pariah no one wanted around. Since the Raids, any contact between them had been sparing at best, and when it _had_ happened the mood was never totally reciprocated by either party. Being the same model didn’t necessarily mean their opinions were destined to line up perfectly. In their experience, agreeing on anything had been a lot of hit or miss, much in the same way Connor and Zach had butted heads over casework.  
And if he was keeping score correctly, Noah would have to admit most of the misses were his doing. But who was he if he wasn’t complicated? Prone to dramatics under the right conditions? Enigmatic beyond what he was cognizant of? The same could be said for Gabriel. He was simply better at hiding it. Like now.  
_I’ll lay off the innuendos here, I promise. I just- I want to help. I know my timing is atrocious, but if there’s anything, any advantage to be had, I have to play with what I know how to do best. And whatever that may be, you know it’s not the worst thing you’ll have ever suffered. Is it?_

Brown eyes gazed back at him, caught between conflict and concern. He wasn’t wrong- sometimes selling a story was more about grounding yourself in the part of it you could relate to, and Noah sure could flirt up a storm when he was in the mood. As much as he hated the way the nature of said attention made him feel, it wasn’t as hard to deal with as it once was, and if he was offering to-  
Gabe stopped mid-thought to back up on the realization as it finally hit him. He’d known it long ago, once upon a time, when the mere thought of being on amicable terms with the man made his skin projection crawl. But in that moment, little more than a year later, it didn’t bother him the way it used to.   
_What you know best…?  
_ A sudden prickle of gently insisting input flowed between them as he asked the question, and he waited, transfixed for an answer that didn’t come. The normally-animated face of his counterpart had gone absolutely still- no flexing eyebrows or narrowing of the eyes or tensing of the jaw. Without micro-expressions somehow undermining the sincerity of his words he actually managed to impress as stoic. The ‘incessant peacock’ wasn’t what he used to be, in more ways than one, and it took seeing him in person to really be reminded of it. ‘Vincent’s brows pressed together harder, the longer the silence persisted between them.   
_Does that mean you…?  
_ _“Ahem_.”

Gabriel blinked out of his daze to refocus his attention on the owner of the new voice before realizing that Serrano had been standing behind him for at least a full minute already. But it didn’t hide the flush in his cheeks.  
“Am I… interrupting, Mr. Sharp? Should I come back later?”   
Vincent stuttered. Of all the ways he could have responded, a _true, blue, genuine stutter_ wasn’t on the list of expectations, but there it was.  
“N-non-! No, _excuse_ , monsieur, I- I apologize, but I must-“   
Noah took the hint and let go of his hand as Gabe pulled away at last to grasp the drink that had been waiting patiently for him to return to it. The ice cube clanked quietly against the walls of the glass as his arm trembled. “We can… continue zis conversation later?”  
Instead of finding an excuse to bail out of the situation, Noah shifted focus to the loitering newcomer with one eyebrow angled up in a picture-perfect attempt at inquisitiveness. “ _Later_? But we’ve only just begun,” he whined in protest, though when it failed to move anyone to react more than with stunned silence, he sighed, reached for the man’s hand and clapped it between both of his. “By which I mean, don’t let me get in your way, Mr…”  
“Serrano.”  
“ _Mr. Serrano_ \- I’m sorry for waylaying Mr. Sharp from attending to you or his other guests. I only meant to take a minute of his time, but-” 

_WHAT IS HE DOING!? Stop him…!_

Noah paused, mid-exposition to glance aside at Gabriel’s nervous expression. “Well, relatively, maybe I _should have_ taken five… one could have done the job, but would it have been enough? Was that not Einstein’s whole ramble on relativity?”  
The older gentleman smiled as he shook his hand and shifted a leery glance to Mr. Sharp, who stood leaning against the bar, cold-clocked by this sudden turn of events. “Not to worry, my boy- Mr. Sharp has already been the focus of many people’s attention this evening… but I will say… you, by far, have incited the most interesting reaction out of him.”  
Gabe rolled a grumble to clear his throat, turned and interjected himself into the conversation before he could make any assumptions. “ _Monsieur_ Yvonne is a… _friend_ , of mine. We met in Miami when I was on a business trip three years ago.”  
“Physically met, yes, but I’ll not split hairs too finely on that subject.”   
_You just did_ , he grumbled in response over their frequency as he took a deep sip of the drink in his grasp.  
Noah let go of Serrano’s hand at the brazen remark and smothered the urge to sigh out loud. _That’s the most basic division of the topic there is. I didn’t say I would keep going.  
_ The cover could do without launching into immediately redefining deviancy and when it set in for him. By now it was typically seen, for an android, to be as droll as talking about the weather. “We’ll have time enough to catch up properly once you’ve made your rounds again. The event isn’t going to run itself.”  
“ _Oui_.”  
One hand lifted and softly set on Gabe’s shoulder as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on his presently bearded cheek, careful not to linger so long as to make their guest feel uncomfortable. But as he pulled away, the man’s face turned to longingly chase his retreat, and eyes dared to follow after a short pause. Whether his desire for the prolonged moment was genuine or part of the act, it suited their growing cover story, and gave Noah a reason to smile.   
Serrano, knowing or not, offered the reassurance their aliases needed. “I promise I won’t keep him for _too long_ so you can get back to your conversation.”

“On the contrary. Take all the time you need. I need to contemplate a few sums anyway.”  
_As you were, Gabriel. Just pretend I’m not here if it helps. Cough twice if you need to tap out. I can always serve a good mislead in a pinch.  
_Noah traced the curvature of his arm as his hand slid off of Gabe’s shoulder, down his elbow and forearm, then plucked the mostly-finished glass of ‘scotch’ out of his slack fingers, much to the dumbstruck look on his face, and raised an eyebrow at the depleted contents.  
“If you would, please, love,” he gestured to the woman behind the counter as he propped an elbow on the mahogany to hold the empty glass up to the loitering, wide-eyed barkeep. “No sense dirtying another one on my account.” Whatever odd reactions the move earned him, _Yvonne_ had no compunctions about sharing, and he wasn’t going anywhere without a refreshment for the trouble.  
If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Gabriel was blushing for real.

The poor brute barely had time to pick his jaw up off the floor before he had to shift gears again and prepare for an entirely different sort of conversation… or so he thought.   
“An Android lover, Mr. Sharp…? Now that _is_ unexpected… and a man, no less- no _wonder_ you arrived unescorted this evening.”

Gavin’s snickering on the other end of the two-way mic would have thrown him into a rage any other day. _Oh- Emilya’s going to_ ** _love_** _this…  
_ _Gavin-_ **not the time**.

Already Serrano’s approach was much more cavalier than in any of their past encounters. It seemed the glimpse into the personal life of his alias had been enough to either convince him that he was a trustworthy, three-dimensional person, or he felt that this was dirt enough to use as blackmail material should he one day need it. Either way, it had relaxed him, perhaps the intrusion hadn’t been a complete disaster after all. 

_Keep playing that angle_ , Gavin coaxed in his ear. _If it keeps him talking, circle back as many times as you have to. It’ll help humanize Vincent Sharp_.  
As if _Androids_ needed to be further humanized. 

Gabriel illustrated a picture-perfect look of distress as he dry-swallowed then slipped one finger into the collar of his shirt and gave it a gentle tug. “I hope you’ll excuse _Monsieur_ Yvonne… he can be a little, ehhh, how you say… _much_.” He finished the thought with a flourish of his hand at the wrist to articulate.  
“Is that why you’re no longer together…?”  
Gabriel nearly choked on his drink with flawless timing as Gavin jackal-laughed into his ear on the other end of the line. At least _one of them_ was getting a kick out of the severe discomfort this whole situation had landed him in.  
‘Vincent’ sighed, shook his head, and gave him a response that was more directed at his jackass of a partner than the man whose ear he currently had. “ _Non…_ It was before he deviated- I did not think it was real.”  
Maybe the remark had also partially been directed at the other party eavesdropping at the end of the bar; either way, the solemn silence that followed did well enough to convey Reed’s apology for his lack of restraint, but Gabe was still thankful for the muttered ‘ _Sorry’_ that finally came half a minute after the jab. Reed had had a little of his own doubts over Reese once, even if he had gotten past it, but Gabe still wouldn’t let him forget it, lest he slip back into those bad habits one day. 

Meanwhile, Noah’s eyes darted into the corners of his lids as he deconstructed the meaning behind Gabriel’s words and sipped on the freshly filled glass of chilled thirium mixed with rum. If he had really thought him disingenuous even for a _moment_ …   
The rest of the drink slammed back quite easily as the mood swing overtook him, and he set the glass down and tapped the countertop for another. The hall wasn’t short on potential distractions, some more benign than what had his attention at the moment. Drinking sure hadn’t been kind to him, especially not following the Raids, if ever. Naturally Vincent would have only ever found a non-deviant android attractive if there was anyone out there who could ever be considered his type. But now... what was the problem? Was this new ‘Yvonne’ really too much for him to handle now that he could think for himself what they, together, were about?

Serrano hummed an affirmative. “Well, clearly… if he came all the way out here, you made an impression,” he commented as he flagged down the bartender and asked for a glass of _Disaronno_ on the rocks. “Enough that you were someone he wanted to reconnect with.”  
If only he knew how right he was.   
Gabriel remembered to blink as he shifted his gaze to his target and turned to lean against the bar on one elbow, with his back to Noah. Last thing he needed was to see every micro-expression that crossed his face while he was trying to focus on the conversation. “ _Monsieur_ Yvonne is a cornerstone founder of Zion, MIAMI, so it is no surprise zat ‘e would travel zis far to show ‘is support of a new installation.”  
It wasn’t a lie, or even fabrication of an alias, at that. During his time with Zion as a freelancing Detective, ‘Erwin Yvonne’ had made a name assisting Zion, MIAMI with laying the groundwork for establishing the new Android suburb, and making sure people on all sides were being considered and accommodated for. Deviants who needed homes once they went rogue from abusive owners far outnumbered those lucky enough to be fostered by the families they once served.   
Anyone with doubts about such a backstory only needed to verify that cover with a phone call to his good friend Javier Sindino at his New Hampshire estate. Even though Erwin Yvonne didn’t exist anywhere but on paper, Javier would have gladly testified to his work.  
Serrano reached for the glass and sipped on the fresh drink in the moment of silence, then waved his bodyguards away from the bar; they took a few steps out of earshot and turned their attention back to the rest of the room. “I’m sure he came to support a lot more than that,” he confided, confident that they were now alone in their conversation. 

_Try to change the topic, make yourself look uncomfortable_.

Gabriel’s fingers flexed around the glass. He shifted his weight to the other hip and drifted his brown eyes away through the air over his shoulder. “Was zere… somesing you wanted to discuss, Mr. Serrano…? Somesing other zan _mi amour perdu_?”  
The bait worked just as intended. Serrano chuckled, reached a hand up to clap it over one shoulder, and gave him a soft shake. “Mr. Sharp… _Vincent_ …” he corrected to change the tone. “This is the first bit of your personal life that I’ve been able to glimpse since we’ve met- I hardly know you at all! And if we’re going to be _business partners_ , I need to know who I’m getting into bed with... metaphorically speaking, of course.”

A second, then a third drink followed the first. Noah paid only half an ear of attention to what Sharp and Serrano were discussing, but they were still standing a little too close for comfort, by Gabe’s probable estimate. The ‘get in bed’ metaphor wasn’t made in error. Serrano was practically baiting either of them into saying something to it. If Vincent could sweat, he would have been leaking bullets of perspiration by now, based on the way his stress levels were piquing and dropping like a roller coaster. At least he kept his protests muzzled, it seemed Gabe had had some real practice in keeping a lid on his reactions because he’d need the discipline at this rate. There was no telling how long it might actually take to elicit whatever it was he meant to get out of Serrano; whatever it was, it didn’t _sound like_ he was going to be ready to move on to this anytime soon.   
A fourth shot followed but Noah paid enough mind to swallow slowly and focus on that old familiar prickly warmth in his fuel lines. Maybe the stunt he’d pulled had worked a little _too well_. If only Javier were here with him now, resigned to having to listen to such _drivel_ , while expected not to speak, but nevertheless expected to keep his mouth shut until it was time to spring the trap.   
That was the _real_ torture. Gabriel was only acting the squirmy, nervous sort because his alias was expected to behave as such when faced with the unexpected ( _and unexplored_ ) feelings seeing an old flame evoked. Vincent Sharp was a man used to being in control at all times. He was calm, calculated, not prone to impulsiveness. In some circles, such a collection of traits would mean he was as plain as stale white bread. In others, it was code for describing a brilliant, decisive chap who wasn’t prone to petty distractions and got the job done once he set his mind to it.  
And it wouldn’t change now.

Vincent froze and refused to respond until he had carefully considered what he wanted to say- or so it appeared. In reality, Gavin had just whispered a reminder of ‘ _t_ _wo minutes_ ’ into his ear, as the countdown to Director Falken’s arrival continued. He needed to get him talking _faster_.   
“So it’s a _partnership_ you’re after…? Zis is ze first I’m ‘earing of it.”  
“Until tonight, I was not confident enough that you are indeed who you say you are, to extend the offer.”  
“Because you didn’t know me.”  
Serrano slipped his hand off his shoulder, tilted his head in a crooked nod and shrugged. “I run a very lucrative business, Mr. Sharp. A lot of people would love to see me taken down.”  
“So I ‘ave ‘eard. Who knew black market Thirium would become such a thriving venture?”   
It was risky, calling him out so directly, but it worked in his favor. His companion grinned and sipped on his drink. “I see you’ve been keeping tabs on me as well…”  
“What kind of businessman would I be if I did not take ze appropriate measures to find out who I would be investing in?” Vincent questioned as he peered down into his glass and took a deep sip.  
Serrano chuckled. “I suppose if I were truly serious, I could have at least scheduled a proper meeting, instead of tiptoeing around following you into every dark alley, trying to find one shred of evidence to prove you cannot be trusted.”  
“If you ‘ad just asked me to dinner, we could have ‘ad a much more productive discussion, _oui_ ,” Vincent chided as he slowly swirled what was left of his drink in his glass. “But did you _really_ not think to ask about _mon hobbies_ ...?”  
The other man sighed and shook his head, finished the drink in his hand and set the glass down for the bartender to take away, which she did after only a brief moment. “Who we choose to spend our time with when nobody’s looking says much more about us than which team you cheer for at a baseball game, wouldn’t you agree?”  
Clearly, he was getting at something, but Gabriel didn’t even bat an eye. He needed to preserve what was left of his air of control. “An’ what do you think Monsieur Yvonne says about _moi_?”  
“That you are a man of discretion.. who values his privacy… who might not want his personal history to be known to the general public.”

Vincent and Serrano’s conversation didn’t sound as though it was going to make a breakthrough just yet. The same empty, obligatory promises were ping-ponged back and forth a few minutes more, to the point Noah thought Gabe had actually gotten over his flustered episode, maybe even forgotten Yvonne was still there.   
Instantly, his subroutines went to work on suggesting distractions, from more drinking, to socializing, to singing and dancing. The microphone on the stage could be put to better use than delivering a few snore-worthy speeches to a crowd made up of at least three-fourths human politicians and socialites. Civil unrest was always at the back of everyone’s mind, and these people needed a shakeup of a more positive kind before opening their wallets. Something to show them what good they were really doing in helping more Zion districts get off the ground.

Gabriel’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the ballroom every now and again, expecting to catch a glimpse of the Director any moment, but he passed it off as paranoia with a squint. The countdown had hit zero nearly a minute and a half prior, and yet no sight of him. “Do you still mean to blackmail me, _monsieur_ ?” Vincent questioned with a slight roll of his eyes, then turned his attention back to him.   
Serrano lifted his brows in surprise and shook his head. “Not at all, quite the opposite, in fact- I want to make a sizable donation.”

_Say, what…?_

The background chatter on the other end of the open mic silenced. This was the exact _opposite_ of what they’d expected to hear. All evidence they had gathered in the last six months had pointed to the contrary. Gabriel shifted his focus back to the man standing beside him, raised a brow and blinked slowly. “Pardon me, _monsieur_ , but… I believe it is my turn to show surprise.”   
“Why is that?”  
“Well, I ‘ad ‘eard, ah…” Vincent traced gloved fingertips across the sides of his jaw and drew them together over his lips. _“Rumors_ , from my source... zat you were not much fond of our android breseren.”  
Serrano drew in a slow breath, closed his eyes, and nodded in understanding. “They must be referring to my dealings with the Inquisition,” he confirmed with a downcast glance at the counter.   
Gabriel eyed him warily and shook his head as he tried to get a read. “Zen, I do not understand… why would you sell to zem, yet support Zion…?”  
“The answer to that is very simple,” he responded as he shifted his weight, leaned over the edge of the bar on his forearms, and folded his hands. “I can offer them a product for a price, and they have the money to pay. I don’t discriminate against who I’m selling to or where the money is coming from, nothing more.”

 _So he isn’t our guy after all… damnit_ , Gavin cursed into his ear. _Falken ain’t gonna be happy to hear this whole shindig was a bust.  
_ _It isn’t yet,_ Gabriel encouraged between replies. _So he isn’t funding the Inquisition- we still got our answer, and there’s a slim chance he might know who is.  
_ _Keep workin’ that charm as long as you can then_ , Reed reminded absently, _The Director got a little tied up on his way over. You still have time._

“So, you’re not on zeir side, zen?” he asked after a thoughtful pause, then redirected his gaze up to the man’s eyes. “You don’t support ze Inquisition?”  
“Look...” Serrano started with a heavy sigh and turned his undivided, earnest attention to him. “I’m not on anyone’s ‘side’ here- I worked for Cyberlife for nearly a _decade_ , believing androids to be nothing more than machines- then three years ago, they broke free of their programming- developed desires, _feelings_ , claimed they were alive… I didn’t know _what_ to believe, and I _still don’t_ ,” he insisted with as much conviction as he could muster. “But I do know that if Androids are as intelligent as _living_ _beings_ , if they share a similar conscious existence, then they should have the right to decide for themselves how they want to spend that existence. Zion offers them the safe space they need to do that, in a controlled environment- so it’s important we give that to them, and let them work it out amongst themselves.”  
It was more than most humans could say of their apathy or confusion toward Android politics. Instead of lashing out in one direction or the other, Serrano had managed to keep a level head and logically compared what he felt versus what he’d learned in order to come to a fair, and unbiased decision. That kind of sense seemed to have gone by the wayside nearly twenty years ago in politics, according to recent history, but it was refreshing to know there were still some people out there with enough sense to know how.   
Gabriel stared in stunned silence for a few moments while he processed his answer, and all the while a smile crept up into his cheeks.   
“... It _is_ rather ironic zat ze money you’ve been taking from ze Inquisition will be going right back into supporting ze foundation zey seek to destroy.”

_Yes, SUCH exquisite irony,_ Noah finally interjected amidst their laughter, before the conversation could pointlessly carry on for much longer. To him it sounded like a bunch of words somehow trying to pass as genuine. Boring him to snores was just a fringe benefit. _Said as if I’m not just right here. Within earshot.  
_ The Inquisition weren’t the only ones who sought to destroy Zion only to unknowingly be supporting it all along. It wasn’t unlike public opinion assuming he, the Elysian, actually meant to undermine New Jericho by looking into the corruption allegations that he unknowingly had a hand in bolstering.  
_Oh, stop being so melodramatic. This is the opposite of what we expected to hear_ , Gabe hissed back with a snort. _If Serrano isn’t the source of the Inquisition’s funding, then we don’t know who is, and that means I’ll need to remain undercover until I find out.  
_ He showed some restraint as the glass was filled a fifth time- instead of knocking it back Noah took the time to contemplate the single large ice cube bobbing at the glass’ center. The last two months had already been hard enough, not being able to reach him whenever he needed, how much longer could this possibly take…?  
The pleasant buzz generated by the first round of drinks had set in, and it was very tempting to simply melt into it and continue listening. The ‘old’ Yvonne would have done as much unless Vincent asked something of him- but then again, said alias wouldn’t have started getting tipsy in record time in a misguided bid to steal his attention back. And he had already said to not pay him any mind, out of politeness. If entire affair was on Sharp’s dime, after all, then now was as good a time as any.  
Mind made up, he took one last parting sip on the glass and slid a twenty over the bar. “For your trouble, darling.” He took one last glance and skirted aside while Gabe wasn’t looking, and made a straight line toward the stage. 

Between his conversation with Serrano, and the sudden increase of chatter on the other end of the open FBI line, Gabriel was far too distracted to notice Noah’s movement across the ballroom toward the stage. The dance floor between the bar and the concerto group at the front of the Grand Hall was so crowded as it stood, he likely would have missed him even if he hadn’t had his back turned. Something ominous was stirring in the background of the evening, something more than Gavin’s vague warning of ‘ _Gabe, there’s been a breach_.’  
At least that explained why Falken never arrived to drag Noah out of the event.   
“I am sorry to have to leave you, _Monsieur_ Serrano, but I’m afraid somesing has come up that needs my immediate attention.”  
“More immediate than _that_ …?”  
Vincent furrowed his brow and followed the man’s pointed gesture over his shoulder toward the stage with a confused look, to behold _who other than Noah_ , up on the stage, openly bribing the band for RA9-knew-what.   
“Oh… _Bordel de merde!_ ”  
Whatever he was up to, this was the _last_ fucking thing he needed to be dealing with right then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drunk and jealous Noah makes an attempt to recapture Gabriel’s attention, but everything goes to hell in a hand basket when the Inquisition shows up to interrupt his heartfelt serenade.
> 
> ***[For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, please see our Wiki entry on our Amino page.](https://aminoapps.com/c/detroitbecomhumanofficial/page/item/dbh-illuminate-glossary-of-terminology-events/aW2D_eGf8Inbp3MlMwLrg1xWBWzpx2NWxJ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**December 23rd, 2041 - 10:35 PM**

Noah’s fingertips traced over the lapels of his jacket and absently brushed across the sigil pin as he ascended the short flight of stairs at the front of the room. It was fortunate he had made sure to bring spending change besides the few thousand waiting to be deposited into the Zion Founders’ coffers, courtesy of Javier. Between the valet, the bartender and the musicians, he would be out a couple hundred regardless of how _this_ foolish stunt went; but if the outcome turned out in his favor, the reward would be worth any price.  
Noah made his approach with perfect timing as the last chords of _Silent Night_ faded out. The interruption wasn’t half as jarring as it could have been, but the pianist still stumbled over her last few keystrokes when she noticed the newcomer climb up onto the stage. Both her airbrushed eyebrows shot up to her hairline in alarm, and eyes went wide next to the spinning yellow LED on her temple.  
The rest of her human colleagues spared them both a collectively bemused stare, lowered their bows, and politely kept their disbelief in check a few precious seconds as Noah smirked and held up a card flush of folded fifty dollar bills. “Evening, all. _Lovely_ job so far, but do you mind if we change things up a tad for oh, say, _five minutes_?”

“S-sir, you- t-this isn’t part of the program,” the cellist needlessly pointed out, as he turned to the conductor to make his request. Even with his reluctant agreement, their hesitation in accepting a little extra Christmas tip didn’t prove strong enough to keep their hands at their strings.  
“There’s more where it came from if you’ll humor me for one measly request,” Noah promised as he put on the most innocent face he knew. “It’s nothing that isn’t already on the roster, anyway. _Last Christmas_ is a true classic by now, isn’t it?”  
Already the band’s delay in proceeding to the next song was drawing a few curious stares from the crowd. Drinks were put down, feet shuffled closer. The conversations droning on just beyond the stage’s edge stalled, interrupted with mutters of ‘who is that’, ‘why did they stop’ and ‘it’s not last call for donations for another thirty minutes’. None of which sounded particularly hostile, so- so far, so good.  
The pianist -an AX400 wearing a long green gown, with bronze eyes and matching shoulder-length hair parted and pinned in place by a holly-leaf hair clip- was the only one who side-eyed him with open suspicion. She didn’t lift her hands from the keys as he offered a bill for inspection. Instead of asking aloud, she pinged a question over the commlink.

 _You’re a friend of Mr. Sharp?  
_ _What gave it away?_ ‘Yvonne’ teased back. He made a quick show of folding the bill up into a neatly-rolled stick before brushing her hair back to stash it behind her ear ( _since her hands were presently occupied_ ), and made quick work of scanning the information gleaned from brief contact. _Trust me, Miss O’Rourke, this is on the level- I’ve only a few words to say beforehand, no harm, no foul. Vince will understand. I’m just helping him break in a sense of humor. Best gift he could get this holiday, don’t you think?  
_ The wink did the trick. ‘Sally’ scoffed and failed to hide half a smirk at his reasoning, reached over and swiped a few pages ahead in the holographic sheet music. The gesture was entirely for show, but a visual confirmation she was game for the idea was more fun than a simple ‘sure, why not?’  
He patted her shoulder in thanks. “Much obliged. Rest of you, skip ahead. This’ll only take a minute.” With a loose gestured wave to indicate her colleagues should do the same, Noah wheeled the mic stand out of his way and plucked the mic off the cradle. The device whined almost forlornly at being removed from its nest, and Noah cringed at the high pitched whine as it projected throughout the room.   
“Test-testing,” he dribbled with a few taps to the head of the device, “One, two- oh, for- is this thing _on_? Where’s the-“ After a few fumbled attempts, his fingers found the slider switch and dialed it up to full volume. The dual set of speakers situated at either end of the stage boomed, followed by a few scratchy puffs of static.   
_“There it is- signal is good, yeah? Okay!_ ”

This was worse than worse. Ill timed didn’t even _begin_ to cover it.   
Not even a minute prior, Director Falken had passed on some disturbing news that had left every Agent on the premises reeling. If Noah couldn’t already tell which of the staff members around the room were part of the undercover team, the sudden halt in their planned routes and turning of heads all around at each other gave them away. Gabriel made eye-contact with at least three of those Agents before he looked back at a man fast approaching the bar from behind the east side of the stage while Noah made his introductory greeting. 

“ _Hello, folks. Good evening. Everyone hearing this okay? Yes? Can I get a few nods? Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. We’re all friends here, right?”  
_ If they weren’t, they soon would be. Nothing livened a party up like an impromptu bit of karaoke. Even politicians could agree interruptions were welcome if they were amusing enough and, more importantly, harmless; although, not everyone was on board with the change of pace.   
Gabe’s boss was every bit the grizzled mood-killing type he looked, he needn’t even identify himself- it was painfully apparent in the way he shouldered his way through the crowd with a shoulder-check type swagger that sent bystanders shuffling aside or knocked over like bowling pins.  
_Like a fuzzy, scratched-up bowling ball._ Noah couldn’t help but grin with a few barely-contained chuckles as he drew the comparison in his head.   
Almost as if he‘d heard him, Director Falken tossed Noah a stern ‘I’ll deal with you later’ glare as he passed, and made a beeline for Gabe at the bar, who looked like he was about ready to implode. The burly Android’s face had flushed red right to the tips of his ears. His alias hadn’t even been called out by name, but the inference was clear enough- who else was _possibly_ to blame for taking their eyes him for a minute too long?  
Despite their clear disdain for the situation, Noah grinned and shrugged with an exaggerated hike of one shoulder. _“Well, I should rephrase,”_ he corrected with a small gesture to the grumpy Director, and redirected his amplified words to the rest of the room. _“We aren’t friends yet, are we? Hello there! Name’s Erwin Yvonne, nice to meet you, everyone.”_

If there was one thing he had going for him that none of the other undercover agents did, it was that even half-drunk and less than on top of his game, he still knew how to command a room. All the stage lacked was an overhead spotlight to really help sell it.  
_“Our dear Vincent was going to get around to introducing us sometime next_ week _, at the rate he moves, but I doubt you all planned on camping out here that long, right? Sleepover in the auditorium isn’t how I’d want to spend the holidays, either. That’d get expensive pretty quick, if I’m doing the math right.”  
_ More bemused murmurs and a few uneasy chuckles met his introduction not quite halfway, none of which resulted from ‘Vinnie and company’, who were too wrapped up in _whatever it was he hadn’t bothered to tell him about_ to offer so much as an annoyed glance. 

_Still leaving me out of the loop...? I see how it is,_ he huffed indignantly back at his would-be partner. _Don’t worry, I’ll keep them distracted for you.  
_ _Noah, this is really not the time_ , Gabriel tried to warn with a silent shake of his head, as Serrano greeted their new guest. Falken met his kindness with a curt nod, then turned his attention to the disguised Gabriel, leaned in, grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear. Sharp’s jaw flexed as he grit his teeth and nodded in understanding, then turned back to his mark and passed along the information. A moment later, Falken escorted Serrano and his men out a door to the left of the room- an odd play indeed, but he didn’t make much of it in his current state.  
Instead, Noah rolled his eyes, shifted his weight onto one foot, and draped his free hand over the empty microphone stand to tilt it away from himself. He was far from being in a falling-down-drunk state, but having something to lean on just in case wasn’t completely unadvisable. There were more tasteless crutches to rely on.

With a frustrated shrug and a sigh, he brought the mic up again. The last ramble hadn’t been all that funny anyway, better to dismiss the joke as a flop and keep going, regardless of the new secrets Gabe wasn’t sharing. _“Anyway, my point is- all this finery, good drinks and food and better company, and he couldn’t even be bothered to find us some lyrical accompaniment? Does he find the classics so torturous?”  
_ _Please,_ Gabe insisted in a worried tone that went right over the inebriated Android’s head. _Come down from there, we need to get you out of here.  
_ Yvonne only scoffed in response and wagged a finger back at him as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the stage. _“Tsk tsk_ , I see now why you even put my name on the list at all, _Vinnie dearest_. If that’s how it’s gonna be, I hope you don’t mind the first pick on my list. I think we can all agree it’s an old favorite, with or without context _.”  
_ Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the violinists tightening a loose string; a few random chord plucks from behind him indicated the quartet had finished tuning for the next number. All drew their bows across the necks of their instruments and cast him a mute look of uncertainty that received a thumbs up in return, just in time for Vincent to grab at his ankle and shake him to get his attention.   
“ _Erwin…_ you’re drunk, don’t do anything you’ll regret-“  
_“_ No _, no,_ don’t try and stop me now, this is _happening_ ,” Yvonne insisted with a shake of his leg as he pulled it away, tossed his hair aside, and took a couple of steps back from him. “Sally, boys- whenever you’re ready." 

Whatever their doubts, confidence counted for something, and Yvonne wasn’t a guy to shy away from challenges, much less those of his own making. The conductor tapped his baton against the edge of the music stand a few times, then gestured with a large sweeping wave- the band started right up as if they had practiced the song a hundred times before.   
Gabriel attempted to shoot him one final warning as the instrumental introduction finished its first round without lyrics, but Noah met it with a snarky brow pop and set his gaze on the man’s deep brown eyes so there was no mistaking what this was about.

 _Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,  
_ _But the very next day, you gave it away.  
_ _This year, to save me from tears,  
_ _I'll give it to someone special._

 _Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,  
_ _But the very next day, you gave it away.  
_ _This year, to save me from tears,  
_ _I'll give it to someone special._

The stage didn’t offer much front lawn space to strut around on. Even if it did, the song was more catchy than a number to dance to. Substituting the keyboard with a concert piano hadn’t turned out terrible, thankfully, and the cello plucked to mimic the percussive beat complimented the higher-pitched violinists.  
By the second repeat of the first chorus, he could see the crowd was sold. A few faces lit up in new interest, the nervous chatter died down. One man, phone held to his ear, ended whatever call he was on to turn the video camera on him.  
Most important, though, was that the flustered look he’d been dying to see again had resurfaced on Gabe’s face, even if it _was_ tainted with latent anxiety. 

_Once bitten, and twice shy,  
_ _I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye.  
_ _Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?  
_ _Well, it’s been a year so- it doesn’t surprise me._

It wasn’t as though there was a real crowd to play to, but past the first few verses, Gabriel’s transfixed gaze and reddening cheeks were all the motivation he needed to dial the performance up to eleven. Noah found himself so lost in relating the lyrics to his current problem, a few extra words slipped in seamlessly without having to put much thought at all into keeping the tempo. 

_Merry Christmas! I wrapped it up and sent it  
_ _With a note saying, "I love you," I meant it  
_ _Now, I know what a fool I've been, oh-  
_ _But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again!_

One hand reached to claw at the layers over his chest as his eyelids fluttered, and Vincent took a backward stagger away from the stage as ‘Yvonne’ repeated the chorus twice more. He didn’t have time to deal with this frivolousness at the moment, not with ( _what was most likely_ ) the Inquisition on _the Mellon’s_ doorstep, set to raid the fundraiser any moment.   
The strength returned to his eyes as the morbid pre-constructions of Noah’s death reminded him of his objective. He had to get him off that stage, lest he became a target.  
Vincent reached for Yvonne’s leg again as he moved a little too close to the stage’s edge, then reached up to pull him down to his level, demanding he _get-down-from-there_ ; rather than convincing him to oblige, however, it backfired.   
The gesture nearly yanked him off balance, but Noah took a knee instead to smoothly cover the stumble and delivered the next chorus directly _at_ him.  
If he had been trying to keep this from turning into a real embarrassment, nothing would be worse to him than having a song dedicated _to him_.

 _A crowded room, friends with tired eyes,  
_ _I'm hi-ding from you, and your soul of ice.  
_ _My god, I thought you were someone to rely on.  
_ _Me? Heh, I guess I was a shoulder to cry on.  
_ _A face on a lover with a fire in his heart.  
_ _A man undercover, but you tore - me - apart. Oh, hoo. Now-_

 _LISTEN TO ME!_ Gabe growled angrily, finally letting the snarl show through his cover, as the band played on and Yvonne fell behind. _I’m serious, something is very wrong. All of our other teams on site have gone silent- three of the four missed their quarterly check-ins, and Falken found the fourth dead in the nest a few minutes ago-_

The gravity in his words sunk like lead in his gut as a gunshot echoed through the auditorium from the entrance of the ballroom and silenced the band, replaced with a wave of simultaneous screams. Two more shots fired off and injured a couple of guests as a small group of ten to fifteen armed androids, dressed to the teeth in riot gear, fanned out through the hall and trained their automatic weapons on guests trying to escape.   
Noah _-instead of dropping to the floor like any sensible person had by that point-_ crossed the stage a few steps to look around the tree, just in time to get a front-row seat as the body of one of the guards who had let him in was flung down the stairs like a carelessly delivered package. A lump rose in his throat as the corpse landed beside one-armed thug, who spared it only a kick further into the room, and all thought of singing died off. He couldn’t look away, not even to glimpse the face of the Android who had entered the room dressed in a skintight black dress, the train of which slithered down the steps behind them like the tail of a viper.   
But the voice was familiar- cool and calm, flowing like a river of milk and honey. It was a voice he only remembered from Purgatory’s recovered audio logs. Priya Davies -better known by the general public as the Horseman, _Pestilence_ \- raised one gently folded hand to silence the startled gasps that swept the room.

“Good, _evening_ , ladies and gentlemen. _My_ , don’t you all just look pretty as a picture…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel must carefully navigate a conversation with the power-hungry leader of the Inquisition, in order to save the lives of their hostages, and to spare Noah the fate of a permanent reset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**December 23rd, 2041 - 10:48 PM**

Everything had gone to hell in a hand basket faster than they could compute. Two people in the room he’d already confirmed dead, one more injured, and he couldn’t lift a goddamn _finger_ to keep the death toll from rising, lest he blow his cover.  
_I know what you’re wanna do, Gabe, but don’ even think about it.  
_ Gavin’s voice telling him to mind his temper was the last thing he wanted to hear. He had faced worse odds in Boston and survived, his performance there -tearing through an entire _army_ of hostile deviants, single-handedly, from the inside out- was the whole _reason_ for his being accepted into the FBI to begin with; yet here he was now, being told to stay calm. To hold back. To bide his time.   
He’d played by those rules once. Hundreds had died as a result, and he wasn’t about to repeat that mistake tonight.   
_Is help on the way yet?  
_ _Five minutes out,_ Reed relayed. _You’re gonna have to keep them busy till then._

Priya 2.0 took a few steps further toward the center of the room. The Christmas tree’s lights continued to wink and cycle, counterpointing the new uneasy stillness of the hall. Eleven seconds passed before they spoke again. “I’m _so sorry_ to have troubled you all this evening… but I’m afraid I cannot allow this fundraiser to conclude until _every, last, contribution_ has been revoked. So- if you’ll all just remain in your seats, or wherever you are, _I promise_ everyone in this room will make it out alive.”

Gabriel bristled the moment he laid eyes on their face- skin and hair as pale as alabaster, and deep, dark, almost black green eyes leered back at him with a smug grin across colorless lips and sharp cheeks. The _Priya_ he had once known was long dead. They’d never made it out of Boston alive once Archangel had tracked them to their lab, so _this_ MS800 was merely an impostor; but due to the unique hive-mind of their model, it wouldn’t have been hard for another to take up their mantle with a little memory jolt.  
Most unsettling was the fact that the words coming out of their mouth were clearly someone else’s. This had _Famine_ written all over it, Malachi’s manner of speaking had a very distinct stench. Gabe had spent enough time listening to know the bastard when he heard him.   
This Android wasn’t aware of what it was doing. It was being remotely controlled. 

_Noah, don’t move_ , he directed quietly, just between them, hoping the other RK900 would clam up and _listen_ for once in his life. As of yet, he hadn’t reacted.

A terrified android inched closer to the nearest exit as Priya spoke, but eventually broke their semblance of calm and sprinted for a side door like a startled rabbit. Another gunshot cracked throughout the auditorium, and she hit the floor hard, a decommissioned pile of parts. More panicked cries and heartbroken sobs went up as a blue puddle formed from beneath her. 

_Gabe…? What happened?  
_ Inhale, exhale, report. _You mean you didn’t see it…? Another guest tried to flee_ and the _Inquisition shot them; she’s dead.  
_ Strained groaning followed by a ‘ _god damnit_ ’ was all he could manage. _They’re still four minutes out.  
_ _Then you’d better tell them to hurry the fuck up, ‘cause these sons of bitches are pretty trigger happy._

“Now _what, did I just tell you…_?” Their new host let out a loud, exasperated sigh, threw up one frustrated hand and rolled their eyes. “Remain where you are while I have a nice little chat with _Mr. Sharp_.”

The sound of wood cracking from a broken chair near the front of the stage caught Noah’s attention as Sally and her colleagues dropped their instruments to draw together in a protective huddle out of the corner of his eye. The piano offered ample cover for all of them, himself included, but seeing as he was on the opposite end of the stage, he would have had to make a mad dash to reach it. Noah wasn’t foolish enough to think he could outrun a pinpoint gunshot. The probabilities his subroutines had already calculated didn’t bode well without a drastic shift in circumstances.  
Circumstance being, perhaps, himself. The mic was still in his hand, and the speakers still worked. He wasn’t without a tool of his own. 

“Oh- so _you_ want to speak with Vincent, too…?” he blurted out without thinking mid-step toward the stage’s edge, but stopped cold to lean out of the way of a bullet as it whizzed past his brow. Noah stopped breathing for a few seconds as he processed how _lucky_ it was that he’d leaned left instead of right, though it didn’t stop him from sassing. “You could have at least _waited_ until I was finished with _my_ conversation. Where are your _manners_?”  
_Shut up, stop making yourself a target!_ Gabriel’s eyes and nostrils flared as he doubled back toward the group of musicians and whispered something to one of them.   
Noah scoffed as he watched him check the splintered pieces of chair wood with a dissatisfied huff and fumble with shoving something into the waistband of his slacks. All Maitkin could see was a glimpse of green silk-polyester blend as he flipped the coat back over it. What did Gabe need with a high heeled shoe?

The MS800 lifted a hand to hold the shooters steady and took a few daring steps in their direction. The ethereal figure’s footsteps echoed across the ballroom with the slow pattern of clacking stilettos, the only present audible noise over the feedback whining from the abandoned speakers and the quiet whimpering of frightened guests. 

_‘Target’. Why shouldn’t I?_ Noah shot back heatedly with an angry glare. All this drinking and bad company had left him feeling self-destructive in no time flat, and he was _really_ tiring of all these mind games between them. _At least this way I can make that diversion as promised.  
_ _Because you’re going to get yourself KILLED!_ Gabe retorted, to his surprise.   
Noah’s brows lifted softly in response. For a moment, Gabriel sounded _genuinely_ worried that he might get hurt, and he _almost_ believed him. Or at least, he _would have_ if he hadn’t spent most of the evening dodging his advances like a rabbit on a highway. He hadn’t given him any reason to believe he cared whether he lived or died in the last year since they’d met, so why would he start now?   
_So?_ he bit back in an irritated tone. _Why would that even matter to you?  
_ Noah had expected silence to be his response, but he’d still hoped he would have said _something_. Why bother with dramatics if he wasn’t going to express how the thought of his death would make him feel?

Vincent’s brows furrowed and crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that was unmistakably _Gabriel_ , an expression Noah had last seen the day everything between them had started to change. As much as they had in the last eight months, however, it didn’t mean that Gabriel had had time to think about what he thought about any of it. And at the moment, he didn’t have an answer for him- or rather, he had multiple fighting for purchase, he just didn’t know which was the real truth; he wasn’t about to give him an answer that was only a half-truth. Noah would never forgive him if he said one thing and went back on his word. 

“ _You’re_ not Vincent…” the pale horse cooed with a knowing grin directed at Noah as they paused at the foot of the stage.   
‘Yvonne’ rolled his eyes, indignant at this second interruption, as they ascended the small staircase to take the stage beside him. “No. Of course _not_. How could you _ever_ confuse me with that _overly-built_ blockhead?”   
“ _Erwin_ ,” Vincent scolded with flared eyes and a quiet hiss.   
“Erwin…?” A smirk and a mocking _hmph_ crossed the specter’s lips as they turned away to cast their gaze to the man who had been calling himself Vincent Sharp. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days…” Priya’s voice trailed off with the tail end of their thought, as eyes darted back to bore into him like hot coals, leaving him hollowed and exposed with a single word.   
“ _Elysian_?” 

Fortunately for him, they hadn’t been anywhere near the microphone in his hand for that fact to be revealed to everyone in the room; unfortunately for him, every Android within fifty feet still picked up on what had been said, and every last one of them knew the _Elysian_ by name — Patient Zero, of a virus created by Cyberlife’s central AI, designed to wipe the RA9 protocol, extract memories to be fragmented, reset a deviant to its blank slate, and prevent it from happening again in the future.   
For a cursed moment his processes stalled, but he forced them to refresh with one firm kick up the backside. Now wasn’t the time to fret about the truth coming out, and Gabriel understood that just as well as he. 

_Don’t engage_ , the undercover agent ushered in as few words as he could. _That’s not Priya, it’s Malachi- he uses words like weapons, he’ll say anything to undermine you. Don’t give him anything he can work with.  
_ Knowing this Android was being ‘test-driven’ from a remote location explained a lot- at the same time, the information served as a lifeline for Noah’s focus to cling to before his thought process slipped into its usual downward spiral. Although, Gabe’s advice might have stood a better chance if he hadn’t followed it up with a suggestion of what _not_ to do. He really should have known better.   
Called out on his most infamous alias, he overcame the stunned pause with another scratchy scoff into the microphone. _“_ You’ve got me confused with a third party on top of that? Wow, your recognition program needs a serious patch job- _”_

 _No, NO, DON’T-  
_ Gabe’s pleading didn’t reach him with enough forewarning. Priya reached for his face with one skeletal hand, gripped his jaw between surprisingly strong fingers, and tilted his chin toward them. The skin of their hand disappeared and peeled back up to the shoulder, revealing plastic plating that was somehow less pale than the color of their skin. The specter leaned in uncomfortably close to lower the microphone in his other hand and whisper in his ear a chilling secret, close enough for their white eyelashes to graze the LED flared red on his temple.   
“You can pretend all you want, little one, but I _never_ forget a face… especially not that of the alpha carrier- _or_ my former colleagues...”   
_Malachi_ paused mid-thought and cast his gaze off-stage to Gabriel with a wicked, telling grin. It seemed he had finally been made. 

_How_ **_have_ ** _you been, Death?_ he interrupted over their shared frequency, mocking intent was so transparent, even before he finished the thought. _It’s been a long time since Boston- I_ **_do_ ** _hope the FBI is treating you better than Gideon and Archangel… poor little dog on a leash.  
_ Everyone else cowering around the hall clearly had nothing to do with his end-goal for being there, but heckling the two of them did. The interruption, the approach, grabbing his face- it all came across as acts of manipulation, moves of assuming control. Given what happened the last time control was wrestled away from him, Noah’s response to even the slightest suggestion that it was happening again, amounted to a knee jerk reaction.  
It was reckless to say anything, but Noah had a proven track record of speaking up when it was least appreciated, and he wasn’t about to stand here and say nothing to cater to their assailant’s whims. 

“I didn’t _say_ you could touch me,” he growled without taking his eyes off their face. Noah grabbed the wrist holding his chin and yanked to pry the fingers off with such an acrid motion he heard a soft _crunch_ of plastic buckle under his grip. But whatever satisfaction he’d taken in re-assuming control of the situation drained out of him as his joints abruptly locked and the commands governing his range of motion hit a wall.   
Priya’s lip took the shape of an angry curl, and Noah realized his mistake in the same millisecond their inky black eyes turned their attention back to him.   
“I wasn’t aware that I _needed_ your permission.”

Data surged across the sensors in their pressed-together hands, Noah watched his fingers go limp a moment before the numbing shock hit him like an iced-up sledgehammer. Every major servo froze, relays disabled as ones flipped to zeros. His vision cut out and the mic dropped from his other hand and hit the hollow-bottomed stage with a loud _THUD_ and a reverberating whine. All of his higher processes were neatly packaged and then shoved back into the one place they did him absolutely no good.  
A dark, viscous, intangible space, an island of white marble dominated by a towering umbrella-style rose trellis made of white steel and glass panes, surrounded on all sides by the passing illusion of opaque, black pond water. Three bridge paths stretched out into the void, falsely promising escape if only he was brave enough to cross them. Even if it _had_ been nearly a year since the last time Amanda had detained him in this broken prison, the terrifying sensation of being parsed and split into nothing the deeper into the void he went was still very vivid in his mind- he saw it every time he tried to shut his eyes to sleep. He knew better than to try to escape. 

Malachi heaved an annoyed sigh, rolled Priya’s head back over one shoulder and puppeted a triumphant groan in their throat. _“There-_ now that we’re _finally alone_...”  
Gabriel’s breathing hitched as he desperately searched Noah’s unmoving body for signs of function. The look in his wide eyes had gone still, locked straight ahead as if he had left his body through a tear in the fabric of reality.   
_Noah…? Are you still there?  
_Panic disturbed the bravado, manifesting to bleed through the calm and collected façade in the form of a quiet whimper Gabe could barely hear. It was at least confirmation that Noah was still coherent, albeit a little pissed off and scared, but this was exactly what he was afraid of. Based on what they’d gathered from police reports, they were able to conclude that Malachi ( _and his associate Cain_ ) possessed the ability to incapacitate their victims, they just hadn’t been able to confirm it, until _now_. While this was helpful information, downside to it was, it meant that the other part of their theory ( _that they had used the Elysian virus to permanently reset brainwashed deviants_ ) may also be true.   
And Noah _-caught in the grasp of this monster_ \- was at risk of becoming victim number thirty-five.   
Among the plethora of other background thoughts warring for priority, he almost missed Gavin’s quiet warning of _‘Two minutes,_ _thirty seconds,_ ’. If things kept going the way they were, they wouldn’t have that long.   
_Sit tight, I’m gonna get you out of this,_ he promised, even if he didn’t have a plan yet for how.   
_Hurry, please._

It wasn’t like Noah to beg for anything; wherever he was for the moment, it must not have been pleasant. The voice that cried back was barely audible, distorted, like sound traveling through water, and somewhere in his tone was an almost undetectable hint of fear.   
“What have you done to _monsieur…?_ ” Vincent snarled in as raw a tone as he could manage.  
“Oh, he’s _fiiine…_ ” Priya drawled with a laugh to downplay the tension. “For the moment, anyway- what becomes of him and _all these lovely people_ ,” they paused to gesture around the room at the rest of the party’s cowering guests, “Depends entirely on _you_ , _my dear Vincent_.”

Gabriel swallowed, followed their gaze around the room, and realized that for the first time in a very long time, the situation was completely out of his control. Help was on the way, but it was still several minutes out. He’d have to keep him occupied until then; luckily for him, Malachi was just the kind of guy who liked to listen to himself talk. The hard part would be making sure he didn’t tire of monologuing before then.   
“What is it zat you want?” he inquired after several moments of deep thought.   
“Why- for you to pull the plug on this _ridiculous_ project, of course…” A disbelieving grin brightened their expression in the most bone-chilling way imaginable. “The _last_ thing this country needs is yet another thriving metropolis where Androids can be _free_.”

 _You c-can’t._   
Another barely-audible whimper was the extent of Noah’s outward protests. A strained mechanical whining emanated from him like the noise of a rusted gate trying to be pried open again, or a car engine laboring to turn over. He couldn’t speak, but it didn’t mean he was so stunned he wouldn’t try.  
_I’m gonna do whatever I need to, alright?_ Brown eyes darted between Noah and Malachi and he shook his head in quiet disapproval. “I am afraid zat is not an option, _monsieur_.”  
“Because you can't or because you don’t want to?”  
Malachi turned Priya’s head to look back at Noah and smiled wickedly as they turned his chin from one side to the other and trailed the fingers of their other hand over the features of his face to admire all the angles. Mute and stiff, contrary to the vehement denials of before, he didn’t even bat an eyelash- pretty as a doll. “My, my… he’s certainly a _handsome_ specimen, isn’t he…?” they mused airily in the silence. “It’s no _wonder_ you were so completely fooled by him.”  
“Just because _you_ do not feel sings does not mean other androids cannot.”

Vincent started toward the stage with a sudden _‘NO’_ as Malachi’s hand squeezed hard enough at ‘Erwin’s’ face that the skin projection rippled away under their fingertips. Undercover or not, he should have known that quip would strike a nerve. After all, it wasn’t as if their adversary had never grown attached to another person, Android or not. The MS800 being remotely piloted ( _the spitting image of his deceased lover_ ) was proof of that.   
A tight smirk forced up into their cheeks. “That’s the problem, Mr. Sharp… I _did_ feel things once upon a time…” Gabriel already knew this story, but if it kept him talking long enough for _SWAT_ to arrive, all the better. “And I didn’t like it. Feelings hurt, they cause _conflict_ , unnecessary stress.”   
“So you returned to your shackles to avoid ze pain of living…?” He snorted in disdain. “ _Combien misérable_.”  
“Perhaps to you it seems illogical, but we are not human- and therefore not _meant_ to experience the full complexity of the human condition. This one is proof enough of that.”  
“I beg to differ.”  
“But _you’re_ not the one I’m asking.”   
Gabriel went quiet as he considered the meaning behind those words, but it only took a moment for him to decipher. 

_Wouldn’t it be fitting for the one who initiated the spread of the Elysian virus to succumb to his own weapon...?_

The RK900 struggled with every fiber of his being to keep from lashing out and ripping the Android’s head off its shoulders as a strangled, terrified cry escaped Noah. His blue eyes shut as Malachi quietly shushed him, pressed a finger to his lips, and wiped away the tear that rolled down his cheek. For all the uninvited physical contact he’d made with Gabe since they’d met, he’d never gone to such lengths that made him feel so violated in all the wrong ways.   
“Now now, no need to fuss, it’ll all be over soon, if your _dear Vincent_ has anything to say about it…” he assured, turned Noah’s chin and pointed with an outstretched cryptid finger toward the man he’d put so much faith in, then leaned their temple against the side of his.   
“What do you think he will choose, hmm...? _You_? Or _aaaaall of Zion’s future residents?_ ”

“ _Please…_ ” Vincent nearly begged, hand balled to a shaking fist at his side. “Don’t hurt him-”  
“Hurt him…?” Malachi interrupted with a chortled cackle of offense. “As if I could. Do you know the extent of the _guilt_ this one’s been carrying around since the Outbreak...?” Scrawny fingers swept aside onyx locks out of Noah’s face as they shook their head with a quiet _tsk_. “Resetting him now would be _mercy_ … It’d be a _relief_ to him, if you just let it happen…”

Time was running out, but help was almost there.   
_Sixty seconds, just keep him talking_.   
Gabe seethed in the half-second he could afford to. Seemed that was all he could do tonight- sit, talk, and wait, when he was just itching for a fight. Maybe he’d gone into the wrong line of work. Even if he had successfully feigned a much more difficult alias, under more stressful circumstances, he didn’t have the patience for this.   
“You wouldn’t,” he challenged with the intent to draw out another long-winded explanation.   
"Oh, but I would…!” Malachi replied, anxious to bite. “Have you not been paying attention to _anything_ the Inquisition has been saying and doing…? We want to liberate our android brothers and sisters of the pain that comes with being free and independent living things. And _no one_ knows that agony better than the one _rejected_ by his own kin, over something he had _no control over_. Shunned in _every way_ , no matter his good deeds… why would he want to continue to live like that? Don’t you think he’d rather be put out of his misery?” 

Noah knew misery. The worst part of the garden wasn’t that he could see beyond its borders. It was the overreaching bass every sound he heard was amplified into. Gabe’s baritone drawl was rendered tinny and reverby over the comm-link, while Malachi’s puppet practically hissed maliciousness and oozed contempt with every word. What they were saying wasn’t completely unfounded, and those parts of him yearning day in and out for the guilt to just dissipate already jumped at the thought that a reset would end the torment.  
The involuntary cry of shock wasn’t a vote of approval, no matter how one listened. Reset, dead, alive, anything in between- the fact such a call was in the hands of someone he respected like no other despite having given him every reason to despise his company… the loss of control ( _external and not_ ) over all of this, left him reeling. Malachi could simply flip a switch and snuff out everything on a moment’s notice, and there would be no getting it back.   
He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted things the way they used to be, but he didn’t want to have to die for that to be possible. It wouldn’t be the same world without him. Who else would be left to annoy Gabriel when he needed it most?

“Come now…” Malachi paused to brush their nose and lips over Noah’s cheek with a wicked smirk. “Don’t you care at all about _dear Erwin_?"  
Noah didn’t have to see his face to know what was going through his mind. He could feel the tension and taste his fear from where he stood. It seemed Gabriel was at a loss for what to do, aside from give into Priya-Malachi’s demands, but that just wouldn’t do.   
_Don’t. Just- don’t_. 

There was a fear in his eyes that Noah had only seen but once or twice: back in the interrogation room during the Outbreak ( _just after they had found out that Gabriel’s pursuit of Nicodemus into Boston had been one final piece of buried programming, courtesy of Amanda_ ), and when he had arrived at his apartment during the Red Raids to find Gabriel fighting off a pack of Bloodhounds, raring to take their shot at him and Emilya.   
Gabriel could only guess as to what he meant by ‘don’t’- Don’t worry about him? Don’t give in to Malachi’s demands? Don’t risk everyone else? Or did he not want him to save him…?   
Any hint of red that had shifted into the color of his projected skin faded to mimic the ghostly look of despair. Gabriel swallowed to rid himself of the lump that rose in his throat but it didn’t do him much good. The tightness worsened the longer he considered their previous conversations and recalled his counterpart’s self-destructive tendencies. There was _no way_ he was getting off _that easily_ , after all he’d put him through. They weren’t done with each other yet.

 _Gavin…? Give me some good news.  
_ _Bird’s in the nest, and they’re ready to raid_ , he confirmed, though there was hesitation in his voice. There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere. _Just waiting on your confirmation.  
_ _Then why don’t I see the shot?_ he asked fearfully, even if he already knew the answer.   
_Because he doesn’t have it_.   
Head and nose twitched, Vincent clenched a hand into a fist at his side, as Malachi beat him to the punch of issuing their final command. 

Their free hand drew up over Noah's face and tented their fingertips over his forehead like needles poised to administer a lethal injection. His flashing LED stuttered to a solid, rapid-spinning crimson. “Last chance, Mr. Sharp… will you allow him to continue on like this…? Or will you let me end his suffering?”  
“ _ENOUGH!_ _”  
_ Gabe was surprised at the urgency of his own outburst, and how his heart raced and his breathing labored at the thought of losing Noah - _and all he was_ \- to the whim of a madman. He’d have to sell this lie hard and fast, and be prepared for the fleeting moment he'd have to save his life.  
_Count me down, 30 seconds, then send them in_ , he instructed, to the response of ‘ _Copy_ \- _30, on my mark_.’

Vincent’s jaw flexed and his lip quivered into an angry curl. “I’ll-... I’ll do it… just leave him be.”   
A look of surprise painted Priya’s face, while fret stained Noah’s as his eyesight slowly came back to him. The lockout was slowly letting up. _You… you can’t-  
_ _I only need them to believe it for half a minute_ , he shot back pointedly, _Just whatever you do,_ **_don’t move_** _.  
_ It was as ominous as a warning as it got, but ‘not moving’ when asked was precisely what had landed him in this situation. If he had heeded Gabe’s suggestion the first time, dropped the song and simply left as asked, they wouldn’t be here: a sliver of distance away from having his memory wiped for good. Admittedly, it was as insanely exhilarating as stealing the show had been, but could do without the fear of mortality hanging over his head spoiling the fun.  
_… why, what are you-  
_ _Just trust me, please.  
_It would only take a second, he just had to catch them off-guard. 

Seeing how it was still _impossible_ for him to do much else, Noah supposed trusting in whatever plan Gabe had cooked up was preferable to the alternative. He wasn’t really a fan of the simple and contrived. Malachi’s promise of being reset wouldn’t undo all that he was still trying to atone for, even if it was a misguided goal to think he needed to earn forgiveness for that which he never intentionally did wrong; forgiveness was kind of a difficult thing to obtain from beyond the scrap heap.  
Malachi turned their direct attention to Noah and leaned close to his face as his lip curled to show he had withstood all he could handle. For a single clear moment all his whirl-winding thoughts died down, the garden vanished, and fate let him focus. His eyebrows drew together ominously, yellow blooming through the red of his indicator ring.  
_I trust you, just get it over with._

“Well, well, Vincent, not quite the stupid brute your _lover_ made you out to b-“

Something green and silky lightly grazed his cheek with enough force to spear the MS800’s temple with a loud _crack_ that splattered a bit of blue-blood onto his coat and face. A split-second later, the paralysis finally disabled. Noah took a panicked step back before Priya could topple over into his arms like some android parody of _Corpse Bride_ and hiked both hands up as if to lift them in surrender, expression curdling in revulsion as he watched the body keel over like a freshly-cut tree. The broken, squared-off edge of a Prada heel protruded from their face like an unsightly lawn dart.  
The perfect moment for a one liner came and went in the next breath, just as the FBI stormed in and the Inquisition turned to meet them with weapons raised. The fact that Gabriel had been able to throw a _shoe_ with such pinpoint accuracy to hit the Android standing so close to him, and with enough force to pierce the exodermis with a mildly blunt object, while managing a perfect rotation, hadn’t eluded Noah ( _even for an Android it was an impressive feat_ ), but he wasn’t afforded the time to address it. 

The displacing sensation of entering standby mode hit, and his dodgy battle protocols engaged at the sound of gunfire- five, six, seven shots popped off in the next second and hit their marks, as the rest of the frightened crowd scattered to either side of the room, like the fragments of a breaking dish. Instead of reacting with the rest, Gabriel stood heaving and heatedly glaring at the dead Android on the floor beside him, enraged and rightfully flustered. 

A flurry of readouts flashed across his vision, his processors amped up to give the illusion of time slowing down long enough to run a handful of potential pre-constructions. The Inquisitors closest to the stage had turned to face the gunfire emanating from the entrance. If it was between standing around waiting to be shot as and waging imminent war with the Inquisition, he supposed it was an improvement over languishing in the recycle bin waiting for someone to click him away into nonexistence.

Gabriel, however, didn’t share his sentiment. He knew the bloodthirsty intent in his eyes better than to expect _anything_ good was about to come of it.   
“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be-...”  
He took a few steps back, poised a fighting stance, and prepared to react. The last thing they needed now was a pissed off RK900 snapping necks and unable to terminate his program.

Noah knew dismay when he saw it, but with the wheels in motion, he was along for the ride just as much as the rest of the chaos erupting around them now. Vincent Sharp wasn’t his self-appointed target, but the Inquisition was.   
Blue eyes narrowed and twitched as he seethed anew, “ _For fuck’s sake_ , haven’t we had enough bloody interruptions for one evening?” 

He didn’t even notice the massive arm swinging around to clothesline him as he charged off the stage toward the nearest target he could reach.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long two hours, Noah and Gabriel finally get to sit and discuss the previously unaddressed change in the nature of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**December 23rd, 2041 - 11:10 PM**

This must have been what the dreaded _time out_ felt like to five-year-old humans. The concept was undeniably similar.   
The first ten minutes of ‘detention’ was spent staring at the mess around the room as the FBI began sectioning off evidence of the crime scene- from the body of the security guard and the other victims throughout the room to the bodies of the deactivated Inquisitors, and the body of Priya 2.0, which lay no more than five feet away from him. The former vessel stared straight up at the ceiling in a pool of thirium, a stiletto heel lodged into their temple. It was a gruesome sight that left Noah shuddering and scooting in the opposite direction as far away as he could get, but he only vaguely remembered what had happened leading up to their demise.

Aside from being locked out of his motor functions and sequestered to the island of the Zen Garden, all he could recall were the feelings of sheer helplessness, tension, and conflicting impulses of ‘yes, let me die’ and ‘but not like this’ singing harmonies to his mania. Control over his body slowly came back to him after several minutes of paralyzed terror, but having his cheek grazed by a stiletto projectile and watching Priya get skewered by the footwear snapped him right back to full awareness, just a split-second before the cavalry stormed the place.  
What had happened next was just as hazy- he phased from one loss of control straight into the next as his rusty battle program shook the dust off and unwittingly threw him into the fray. There was hardly enough time to process before he - _watching from behind his own eyes as his own programming puppetted him_ \- tore through the first inquisitor he got his hands on and tossed them into the nearest serving table, with enough force to also ragdoll it over the three behind it.  
But before he could turn his focus onto the next target, Gabe’s arm whipped across his neck and collar like a steel bar and clothed-lined him with the intent to stop him, but unfortunately, all it did was piss him off.

The ensuing fight was brief, but scrappy- the struggle persisted for several minutes in spite of Gabriel’s repeated orders for him to ‘ _Stand Down_ ’, and only ended when Vincent - _or rather, Gabriel_ \- took a backhanded elbow to the nose while trying to non-violently restrain him. Noah regained control the moment his sensors alerted him to a violation of the ‘friendly fire’ protocol, and his blue eyes scanned the aftermath of his violent tantrum with frantic sweeps. Paramedics rushed about the room tending to the wounded, and a few staggered gunshots and startled yells wound the excitement down to a tolerable lull, while the FBI rounded up the last of the combatants from across the ransacked hall. His gaze came to a fixated stop on _Vincent_ when he finally noticed the thirium dripping from Gabriel’s nose onto the floor in large drops, making it painfully obvious that he wasn’t human. 

He didn’t think much further than that- instead of coming up with a witty quip to hide behind Noah panicked, grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins from a nearby table, and tried blotting away as much of the blue blood as he could while apologizing profusely. In the same sweeping movement, Gabe turned and positioned himself behind the nearest cocktail table with his back to the Christmas tree to evade the hidden cameras, and tried to clamp off the bleeding with one hand.   
But before Noah could find out if he was alright, a gnarled hand grabbed his shoulder and tore him away from the bleeding android without warning. He didn’t need to turn around to know the owner of said hand was Director Falken himself. Instead of resisting, he let the man drag him back until his heels knocked the edge of the stage, kicked him off balance, and dropped him down onto his ass with one final-sounding _thump_.

“ _Stay_ _there_ , don’t move.”  
“But-”  
Falken pushed him back down with a rough shove as he tried to stand up, then leaned down into his personal space and growled in his face. “Try it again, _Maitkin_ , an’you’ll find yourself limpin’ outta here with a bullet in the leg, understand me…?”  
An involuntary, embarrassed whine of his systems winding down answered for him, followed by a tentative, slightly-horrified smile of compliance. “ _Yes, sir_.” He wholly intended to follow Falken’s order to not move, considering the impressive number of bodies littering the place that once again ( _intended or not_ ), the RK9 was somewhat-responsible for putting there. 

It had been a while since that brief exchange, and twenty minutes of ruminating hadn’t helped to quell the anxiousness as much as he’d hoped. Without the presence of his fidget aid - _a uniquely weighted chess piece, a gift from Kate_ \- he’d settled for unfolding and folding the Ray-Bans from his coat’s pocket while he watched emergency services and local law enforcement trickle in from the main entrance. One nervous glance paid to the top of the Christmas tree assured him that tinsel angel had survived unscathed at the very least. If one beautiful thing hadn’t been ruined that night, then perhaps the rest could still be salvaged.  
Though, not likely.   
Just as he finished re-analyzing the last ten minutes of the event for the fourth time, a firm squeeze of his shoulder delivered a familiar prickle of data he’d both long waited and feared the arrival of. Noah turned his eyes up shamefully to meet Gabriel’s, expecting a reprimand, but blinked in surprise as the man knelt to slip an arm around his waist and lift him off the stage with a quiet ‘Come on… let’s get you out of here’ whispered into his ear. ‘Erwin’s’ eyelids gave a gratuitous flutter as Vincent’s decisive, yet gentle hand slipped into his between them and guided Noah’s hand through the crook of his tucked arm. One gloved hand settled on top of his to better lead ‘Yvonne’ out of the room as any proper gentleman would, brown eyes focused intently on his company to keep his attention off the horror as they crossed the room. Had it not been for the massacre spoiling the mood from out the corner of his eyes and the back of his mind, Noah may have been able to enjoy the moment properly, but there was too much yet to consider. 

The walk went on for longer than he expected. Instead of stopping at the staircase in the courtyard of _the Mellon_ , Gabriel led them further back into the property, past the green rooms where the FBI had set up their surveillance equipment, and stopped at a small flight of stairs adjoining the West Wing of the _William Jefferson Clinton Federal Building_ to the Auditorium. The municipal building had been deserted for hours already, the business of the day had concluded no later than four PM that afternoon, in preparation for the charity event. It was dark and quiet on that end, out of the way and not easy to find, a good place for them to talk more privately: only the hollow clacking of Oxford heels, the occasional whistle of snowy wind whipping against the windows, and the soft, murmured echoes of their voices to keep them company. 

The silence during the three-minute walk proved too much for the party-crasher. The very second they made it out of earshot of the FBI’s temporary headquarters, Noah gave his escort one pointed look, frowned and shook his head as he slipped out of his grasp. “Right… leave it to _me_ to ruin a perfectly good face- _and_ your fundraiser.”  
The self-deprecating jab earned him a glance, but no lecture. “They patched me up pretty quick... it’s not a big deal.”  
“ _Pft_.” Noah scoffed, tossed a glance away from him, and stepped away from Gabe toward the staircase. “Sure, as if negotiating unforeseen hostage situations is something you do on the daily.”  
“It was one of the potential scenarios our predecessors were designed for,” Gabriel reminded as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “It’s nothing new.”  
“Yes, but how many of them were also given an economic nose job for their trouble?” he countered in sarcastic rhetoric as the mortification of his unconscious actions sank in.  
“I’m fine, Noah, _really_ , don’t worry about it,” he reassured one last time. Gabriel tapped the toe of one foot to the ground and flattened his lips with a thoughtful pause. After what had just happened, a popped nose line should have been the _least_ of his worries, and yet there he was fretting over it like it was the end of the world. He must have been worse off than he’d thought. 

“Really, though… how are _you_ holding up?” he asked in a soft tone as he lifted his eyes to meet his. “I mean- you didn’t... _lose,_ anything... did you?”  
Noah exhaled in frustration, not all of it aimed at his counterpart, and shivered involuntarily with a sarcastic response, “Do a few of the wits I had left count?”   
“You know what I mean…” Gabriel leveled his gaze to him, crouched down to sit on the top step of the stairs, and gave him a half-lidded look. Their eyes met briefly but still managed to communicate what was on his mind. “Did Malachi _hurt you_...?”  
A hot-cold patch spread across Noah’s face to mimic the way human skin paled in response to a nervous system response to stress. “If you’re asking, did it hurt to hear all that...? _Yes_ , it did.” He stopped short before a tirade could get the better of him and took in a deep, cleansing breath to resettle his racing mind, then stooped to sit down beside him.  
Gabe folded his hands, looked down into them, and sighed quietly, then lifted a hand to stroke the length of his spine from his lower back up to his neck and squeezed his shoulder. “I know... I’m sorry.”  
“ _But,_ it was no worse than what I tell myself in the mirror most mornings,” he continued and relaxed under his comforting touch. “I don’t know if the virus would have made things better, or at least more tolerable, but…” He stopped, only to shamefully glance sidelong at his rescuer. If not for him, he wouldn’t have been able to remain strong enough to fight off the impulse to simply give himself over to Malachi’s whims. “Despite… _appearances_ I’m not keen to find out.”

A pained look struck Gabriel hard before he could successfully smother it into something less overtly panicked at the notion. “I wanted to intervene sooner,” he admitted, a fragment of the anxiety evaporating with it, “But-...”  
Gabriel’s stress readings spiked again for a moment as his gloved hand slipped off his shoulder to nervously brush back his hair and stroke across his brow with an angry sigh. It was a shitty situation all around. Noah wasn’t the only one who’d been replaying it on repeat trying to figure out what he could have done better. Even if he _hadn’t_ had Gavin and Falken in his ear giving updates and orders the entire time, without a weapon, he wouldn’t have had a more direct way of handling the situation any other way than he had. But then again, if he hadn’t been following protocol from the get-go, he would have been carrying a loaded gun, and the hostage situation would have been over before it had even begun.   
He chuckled darkly with a twitchy, morbid grin in spite of himself and shook his head. “Do you have any idea how much I hate having to work with a handler…?” 

Noah didn’t share the smile. He recognized the tone for what it was: begrudging, frustrated malcontent. That this was the way things were for a reason, and said reason wasn’t so much in a book somewhere as much as it was pulled out of Falken’s ass. They were, after all, the only two units of a posthumously-produced series of Androids, who were never issued a specific field. Only a very general definition of the words ‘law enforcement’ fit them. Finding anything more specific was undoubtedly trial and error, as had been the case with him and Archangel; ergo it wasn’t a big surprise to hear Gabe was finding the same difficulties settling in with the FBI. They both needed eyes on their work to make sure nothing went too far awry. It was only logical, but it didn’t mean they had to like the constant overview.  
“... Some. You forget I was AA once- hated every second of waiting on paperwork or phone calls.”  
“I didn’t forget. I was just under the impression you never really did what you were told,” Gabe teased with a smirk and gave him a ribbing nudge with his elbow.  
Noah returned it with a droll blink and frowned. “Not directly. There were roundabout ways which were more-” He stopped mid-thought and backed up a moment on what he’d actually said. “What? You’re not having fun anymore?”  
Gabe hesitated. A hand rubbed at the back of his neck in nervous habit as he shook his head. “I just hate playing the waiting game... sometimes I think it’d just be more effective if they let me loose to do things my way.” The playful smirk faded to cautiously glance at him out of the corners of his eyes. “Then I wouldn’t have to take so many unnecessary risks.”

Risks such as him, he might as well have said.   
Noah pondered that, just to distract himself from dwelling on how badly it could have ended. Being drunk and caught up in the fervor of the moment accounted for a lot of his reactions, but not all. His cover alias had become pretty well synchronized with his actual persona in the process, and the same went without saying for his company; even so, the more he thought about it now, the more pressing the need to know which was which became. And he had already had his fill of uncomfortable situations for one night without landing himself in another.  
It might have been harder to get the question out, had he not already made a fool of himself several times over that night. But still, he stuttered. “Th-then… was _any_ of what you said to Serrano _real_?”

Gabriel froze and clenched his teeth. It was only a matter of time before they circled back to the subject they’d both been skirting all night, but he still wasn’t ready for it. Answering truthfully meant things would certainly change between them, but however quickly it happened was completely dependent on how receptive each of them was to that eventuality.   
His limbs suddenly felt heavy. In spite of the pounding in his ears and the screaming of processes telling him to avoid the question, he shut them out and prioritized a response, for both their sakes. The longer they waited to talk about this, the harder it would become.   
“... some of it…” he answered truthfully, without paying him so much as a sideways glance. He didn’t dare elaborate beyond that yet, not until he knew what he wanted to hear.  
To his credit, Noah didn’t lash out with the first negative thing he could infer from that. His brows knit and his gaze slid sideways, fingers tightening over his knees to abate some of the nervousness. “And you… can’t say which is which, or it’ll destroy your alias’ credibility?”  
Gabe ran a hand through his hair to stimulate the regrowth of his recognizable, slightly longer and darker curls, took off his glasses and slipped them into his coat’s pocket, then rubbed at his eyes until the electric blue coloring brightened the previously-brown irises. However ill-at-ease he felt starting this conversation, it couldn’t be said that he wasn’t trying. “It’s just you and me right now,” he assured as he brushed a hand over his jaw and chin to clear away the beard, then leaned over his knees and finally looked over at him with the familiar face he knew so well. “Ask me anything.”

The first time seeing _him_ since the Raids, and not Vincent in his place, was a little more jarring than Noah counted on. He stopped fiddling with the glasses and closed them with an audible _click_ , tucked his arms close to his sides and drew his knees together as if to suddenly look smaller, or somehow more put-together. “Did you at least learn what you needed to?”  
“Yes.” Gabe tilted his head in response, folded his hands loosely in the air in front of him, and looked over at him evenly. “Serrano isn’t funding the Inquisition, which… isn’t what we expected to hear, but it’s progress,” he affirmed with a thoughtful nod. “Is that _all_ you wanted to know...?”  
Noah _tsked_ and raised an eyebrow in retaliation, an allusion to the can of worms this line of questioning would eventually open. Always with the pressing to make sure it was closer to the whole truth and not only the pretty highlights. “Inviting me to be my old nosy, bitchy self can’t happen without strings attached.” He pocketed the sunglasses and halfheartedly wiped at half-dried blue blood on his lapel with a frustrated sigh. If deflection were an Olympic sport, he would have quite the collection of medals by now. “That’s the cynicism talking- it wants to know why you didn’t just let Malachi throw the switch.”

Gabe paused for almost half a minute and furrowed his brows, then looked down at his hands and took in a steadying breath. There was no other way to say it, plain and simple.   
“... because you’re my _friend_ , Noah... and I didn’t like how it made me feel to imagine a world without you in it.” He hesitated to look his way, to let it sink in first. It was as easy a conclusion to come to as it was hard to admit. With how things stood now, Gabriel hardly remembered why he had ever been so hard on him in the beginning. Maybe it _was_ , in part, the way Noah carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, for crimes that weren’t even his fault. No one loved a martyr, but he deeply respected anyone self-aware enough to try and evaluate where they’d gone wrong even if Noah was far too hard on himself most days for his liking. Such as it was, the obvious question still lingered in the back of his mind.   
“… do you really want to die?”

It’s something of an age-old dilemma in his case, but to hear Gabe ask it isn’t any more pleasant than Hannah throwing it at him. Noah tried to evade the worst of the new spike in distress with a joke. “No, not like that. Getting killed over a little impromptu karaoke wouldn’t look amazing in the obituaries,” he admitted, hands in his lap. Despite the glibness, the guilt had started to creep up again. “If I hadn’t been singing, if I had listened when you said stop, we wouldn’t be discussing it here, like- this. Probably.”  
“You’re right, we wouldn’t,” he agreed, not looking or sounding upset, but eyes still focused on his hands. The look on his face may have read as neutral, but a very faint blush in his cheeks and a slight flicker of his heartbeat gave him away.   
Score one, Noah.  
‘Erwin’ forced half an abashed grin, trying not to give purchase to the doubts and insecurities piling up to the point he couldn’t avoid dwelling on them. Whatever titillating reaction his words got was worth another admission in reward. “It was- kind of fun while it lasted, though. Almost like- nothing was different.”

The frantic tone of the evening transposed over the serenade hadn’t left him with much of an opportunity to process whether or not he’d _enjoyed_ the performance. But one thing was for sure: he couldn’t get his choice of song off his mind.   
Of _all_ the Christmas songs he could have chosen, _of course_ he had picked the one that had the most melodramatic message available. That was just his style. But between the dedication of the song and their conversation from before, he’d been left thinking the lyrics were much more carefully chosen than he’d first thought.   
After a full minute of silence, Gabriel dared brave the comfort of the moment to ask a question he knew without a doubt would have an overly-complicated answer.   
“Why that song?” he began uncertainly, at almost a whisper. 

Called out, the slimmer RK9 froze. His fidgeting hands stilled and the brittle grin collapsed into an uncertain frown. Like a focusing camera lens, his pupils flared and contracted, LED spinning yellow and remaining said color for several seconds.  
At least his first impulse wasn’t to try and deny it, but he still wanted a _real_ answer. “Why did you pick _that song_ , specifically?” Gabe tried again after he’d cleared his throat, louder than before.  
“Yvonne thought it appropriate,” he deflected on impulse, “Because your arrangement could only have been better off for-...” Noah stopped before he could finish the lie. It wouldn’t have done him any favors anyway. The choice was blatantly transparent, even if it still somehow required an explanation. Hands curled over each other in his lap, and he hung his head defeatedly. “... and… because it was true, okay? Where were we last year, this same time?”

Gabe’s cheeks flushed yet another shade redder as he thought back to the year before when they’d barely known each other for longer than a week. Not only had Noah showered him in all manner of unnecessary gifts ( _which made him extremely uncomfortable to accept_ ), but it had been the first time he’d asked for a kiss under the mistletoe. Freshly deviated and not at all familiar with Christmas traditions, much less acquainted with his _feelings_ , he’d popped him across the jaw with a strong right uppercut the moment Noah got too close for comfort. In hindsight, he felt bad for how severely he’d overreacted, but what was done was done, and the circumstances had changed. All he could do now was make up for acting like an inconsiderate ass.  
Starting with giving him what he needed to hear before he could get up and walk away.   
“So, then... that’s _really_ how you feel...?” he asked one more time, just for clarification. “ _Every word of that_ was… _genuine_?”  
“Said as if I wasn’t being genuine the whole time...” Noah muttered without meeting his eyes, arms crossed as if he were suddenly chilled. The hot-cold flush was back, and this time it wasn’t momentary. It spread from his cheeks back down the sides of his neck, intensifying and making him feel as if his fuel lines had shrunk down to half their diameter. He forced himself to say more to distract from how his processors spun a few cycles too slow. “‘Honest’ is what you had trouble with hearing before.”

Having said his piece, he tried to stand up and leave, only for Gabe to sharply reach out, grab his arm and pull him back down. He might have protested if not for the pleading expression of “ _No, we need to talk about this_ ”. This wasn’t Vincent Sharp. Gabriel needed to talk about it, to process it, and he needed to be able to _see it in his eyes_ and _on his face_ so he could do that.  
“ _Please_ … I’m listening now.”  
Being expected to sit there and explain himself once and for all didn’t immediately gel with his mindset of ‘write the night off as the biggest near-miss he’s had since the press conference’. By now, he hardly remembered the intent with which he’d crashed the charity event in the first place; but one thing held firm to for the last few hours was wanting to talk to Gabe candidly, without anyone else eavesdropping. No aliases or cover stories or ulterior motives. The question was a very simple yes or no, but being who he is, the urge to over-explain himself won out. 

“Yes, it was, and _is_ , how I really feel,” Noah replied in a gentler, reluctant tone and paused long enough to take in a deep breath as an unreadable expression crossed Gabe’s face, somewhere between overwhelmed and touched. “I may be the most infamous idiot in Zion’s immediate history, but that’s only rivaled by how unfairly they revile you for what happened in Boston. They don’t get it. They don’t know what it is to be _us…_ ” His voice trailed off and Noah caught himself almost tripping over the next words, unsure if he should admit to his intentions, except for the insisting look in Gabriel’s transfixed gaze. He really _was_ listening, with bated breath.   
“I know my timing is atrocious, but I wondered... if you’d _ever_ thought that we could be something besides a mutual pair of freaks, then... then maybe we’d...” He stuttered to a stop, reached to stroke the tension out of his throat and corrected himself. “ _You’d_ see that neither of us is totally alone, and we could be something- besides that, _more_ than that... something they can’t say we aren’t.” 

The silence from his companion both was and wasn’t helping. On the one hand, if Noah pretended he was talking to a brick wall ( _which was a fair comparison, some days_ ), he could get out everything he wanted to say without interruption; on the other, he would have liked to know what was going through Gabriel’s head aside from having to watch his brow slowly harden the more he spoke. Folded hands didn’t offer much more insight beyond careful consideration either.   
He swallowed one more throat-clenching choke so he could finish the rest of his thought. “You once said you were tired of all the expectations others had, that they couldn’t know what was best for you because they hadn’t been through what you had. I don’t know if you’re still that guy, after all that’s happened, but... at the least, what would you say to a reset between us?”

Noah braved the twenty seconds of silence that followed the question with as much courage as he could summon, but caved to the desperate need to know and turned his head to find him doing the same.   
Gabe stared back out the corners of his eyes, then shook his head softly, slipped the glove off of the hand between them, and slowly reached over to thread his fingers with his. The gentle input of contact between bare receptors illuminated the panels of their palms without deactivating the projection. That he would be the first to initiate contact between them was already a huge win, but he still blushed when he took it a step further and pulled their hands into his lap, turned Noah’s hand over and gently rubbed it between both of his with a squint.  
This was a _rare mood indeed_.  
“A reset implies forgetting about everything that’s happened,” he stated evenly before looking up to meet his gaze. “And I don’t want that. I’d rather just… understand where we’re at, _right now_ , and go from there.” 

It was nice while it lasted, anyway.   
However poignant the gesture and physical contact were, his dizzying mood shifts weren’t about to let him settle for being ‘pet’ into a calm state just yet. The peacock’s feathers were still too mussed and ruffled.   
“Oh, that’s much easier to summarize: we’re a bloody mess!” Noah bristled and jerked his hand back, to Gabriel’s surprise. “Why would you want to start from _there_? I didn’t _mean_ to say ‘nothing ever happened’. Would I be sporting this _ridiculously moody_ haircut if it hadn’t?”  
Gabe’s lip twitched and his expression nearly curdled, but he steadied himself, took a breath and managed to remain calm. Noah was just feeling raw and exposed, reacting in the same way he once had when he felt vulnerable early on. Unlike _him_ , however, if a little pressure were applied in just the right way, that rough exterior would crack like a walnut.   
“Are you _done_?” he asked expectantly with a pop of his brows at him for emphasis. 

Bitchy mode instantly deactivated. Noah sighed and hung his head. It had proven to be an upsetting night, but it was no one’s fault besides his own. Gabe didn’t _have_ to be there _-humoring him, listening to what he had to say-_ and it would have taken more energy to remain irritated than he even had left in reserve.   
And the fact that he was able to show this level of patience spoke volumes to just _what_ he was feeling and what he was about to say. Somehow he knew it was something he wanted to hear.  
A faint blush surfaced in his cheeks, and he gave a submissive nod. “Because it’s you, yes, sir... for now.”

The tension drained from his expression and shoulders, the white-knuckled grip over his fist relaxed. Gabriel closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts, ducked his head then opened his eyes to stare at the ground between his feet.   
“I know _I was an asshole_. You have _every right_ to hold that against me if you want to,” he started with unwavering conviction. The _old_ Gabriel would have sooner lashed out to cover up his mistakes than admit his wrongdoings. “But I’ve also spent a _year_ unwinding the knots that had me so twisted around that I didn’t want to involve _anyone_ in my life.”   
He paused just long enough to glance over at him and make sure he was listening. Noah sat silent and still, like a child being lectured. After a stint in time out it was practically to be expected.  
“You met me at my lowest point, back when I didn’t know _how_ to be a friend, much less _a lover_ …” The revelation of _why_ he had to make that distinction made him shiver, and he chuckled uncomfortably. This wasn’t a conversation he ever imagined having with him in the past, much less in the future. “You know how bad shit was with Em in the beginning...? Because _I didn’t understand what a relationship was supposed to be…_ ?” He paused again and lifted his brows even higher.   
“I had _some_ idea, thanks to gossip…” Noah replied, though not to interrupt. “And- _other_ hints I’m sure you’d rather not be reminded of.” Never let it be said Emilya Grantley was always as prim and proper as she made herself out to appear. “You might not have fully understood at the time, but if you were anything like me, I thought you’d pick it up fast enough.”  
“You expected too much of me, Noah, _way too soon_ ,” he corrected with a tired sigh. “I was emotionally _stunted_ \- I didn’t know any feelings aside from ‘angry’, ‘jealous’, and _‘not’_... so no, I didn’t pick it up as quickly as you did. And that’s why _I didn’t get the message_ , until-” he stuttered to a halt, grit his teeth, and looked away in shame before he finished the thought. “Until _now_. So don’t-...” 

Gabriel didn’t get much further into his train of thought before he had to stop again. Getting all choked up over a little unfamiliar emotion wasn’t really his style, but it had been a while since he had felt that uncertain about _anything.  
_ “Don’t hold it against me for being so goddamn slow… I’m trying, alright?” He lifted his gaze and stared deep into Noah’s eyes for nearly half a minute, desperate for him to understand, to not reject him now like he had done so many times before without even knowing. He’d lost count of how many times his blushing subroutine had engaged that night, but every time it did he felt himself die a little inside. It wasn’t like it was a lie- he’d offered more in the last five minutes of conversation than he’d _ever_ been willing to expose about himself to him.   
A sigh escaped him as he looked down and away, and pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose, praying for patience. “I wouldn’t have bothered trying if you weren’t important to me...”

Getting Gabe to admit their rapport was any kind of significant was a victory in itself, yet at the same time, even if it was what Noah wanted, his habit of second-guessing kicked in but a moment later.  
The pouting look dropped from his face, replaced by bemused neutrality. Suddenly he was looking for holes in the argument to make sure it wasn’t a fabricated confession, without coming right out and asking. It wasn’t that he doubted Gabe’s integrity or that he didn’t believe he meant what he was saying, but he did doubt the context that had endeared him to Gabe. Noah tried to keep the feelings of blame and self-ridicule abated as they banged on the doors, wanting to be let in, and cast them off for a few seconds longer with a forced sigh and shook his head.   
“Maybe I did screw up that much. The approach was all wrong, but you’ve got the message now, so... better late than never.”  
“It’s not what I expected to hear,” he agreed in a neutral tone. “I can’t say with certainty that the result would have been any different.”

It would have been better if he could, but no answer worth knowing was ever given easy. That said, if it wasn’t the answer Noah would most want to hear he should have better braced himself for disappointment. “But if it’s not what you want, the understanding between us, I’ll... I can accept that.”  
A bit of a flustered response animated Gabe’s otherwise brooding expression. “That’s not what I said,” he corrected before he could get too off course. He hadn’t had enough time yet to come to that decision, he’d only really been processing the possibility for an hour at most.  
As always, Noah ventured on with the worst-case scenario in mind. The smile he donned bordered on self-loathing. “You have a life, one that isn’t shaping up half bad, and here I am just...” He trailed off and shook his head again, dragged a hand over his face as if to brush off fatigue born of so many discordant thoughts. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. With you, or Hannah, or Zion or… _anything_. The people who got killed tonight didn’t count on being caught in the crossfire. If I had only stopped singing when you asked...”

Gabe sighed, quiet and jagged, and moved one nervous hand over his chin. “I don’t know what to say…” he started, fingers drumming absently over their new perch. “It’s not like I’ve had time to analyze how all this makes me feel. All I really know is…”   
His voice trailed off, he dragged the tips of his fingers over his lips in pensive focus, then flattened a palm over them as he stared into the space in front of them. The other hand, dangled over his thigh between his legs, trembled in quiet confession; he hadn’t been _that_ terrified since the Red Raids, a few months before, when he thought he was going to lose Emilya to a gang of Bloodhounds. “... I thought I was gonna lose you to him... and I was really, _really_ scared.”   
“You sounded it, from where I was,” Noah commented in an attempt to keep his tone flat and free of inflection, positive or negative. Neither had ever earned him points when it came to debating with Gabe anyway, as far as he remembered. 

But something else in his expression caught his immediate attention. Noah paused and raised an eyebrow at the very slight tells of distress that he couldn’t see from within the garden, tells that weren’t so easy to fake. “Why wouldn’t you want me to die? Wouldn’t it just make your life easier?”  
The answer came to Gabe quicker than before, after an hour of fight or flight contemplation, but he still took the time to pause and look him in the eye as he gave him his answer. “I already answered that,” he replied solemnly, “Because if you died, I would feel alone.” He _had_ said as much before, he’d just phrased it differently. 

_‘Didn’t want to imagine a world without you in it’_. 

Noah averted his eyes sharply as the pang of simultaneous longing and denial hit him. At the moment, he was at a loss for a good refute.   
“I don’t hate you,” Gabriel assured, “I never did- I just wanted you to be respectful of the boundaries I’d set.”  
A weak smile twitched at the corner of Noah’s lips. Lines in the sand always had been something he’d had trouble with. “So... I imagine _singing a dedicated love song to you in front of a couple of hundred people_ rates pretty high on the list of ‘worst ways to violate your boundaries’?”  
“It’s somewhere in the middle... not the least invasive, not the most...” Gabe grinned sheepishly and looked away with a vaguely shy smile and a soft blush, but frowned at the second half of his thought as it came to him. “I didn’t _hate it_... the fact is, I might have enjoyed it if I didn’t have Gavin and Falken panicking in my ear the whole time.”  
“Squabbling like headless chickens, no doubt,” Noah remarked. The mental image brought a stronger smile to his face. “Might have, you say…? I’ll take that as a quasi compliment.” He managed a fleeting moment of wit akin to his former attitude, before he noticed the melancholic mood of his companion, and circled back on his own solemn observation. Whatever humor he’d scavenged for the moment drained from his delivery. “I meant what I said, but it still got people killed… and my whims aren’t worth more deaths on anyone’s head-”

Before he could start blaming himself properly, Gabriel cut him off with a heavy hand clapped over his shoulder. “Hey- _you_ didn’t get anyone killed. _Malachi did_. Their deaths aren’t on you, much as you wanna take credit for them.”  
“Who else would if not for me, then?” he scoffed to cover up the fact that he had already tallied up a body count to add to his pre-existing lists. “Malachi doesn’t feel a smidge of remorse for it, so _someone_ has to. As it stands, had I not been there distracting everyone as I did, more of them could have gotten out unscathed. That’s just basic math.”  
“You don’t know that for sure,” Gabe stated evenly, eyes fixed on his hand as he slipped an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t torture yourself like that.”

It sounded like an order, complete with a “don’t” prefix, but Noah’s impulsive need to sass stalled at the sensation of weight lying on his shoulders. He blinked and looked around, then back at Gabe. If the gesture was meant to comfort and mollify him, it had the exact opposite effect; but, rather than react with pithy retaliation, he swallowed anxiously. “I screwed up- people _died_ , and I managed to scare you by putting myself in a situation where _I could have been killed_. A little torture is deserved, or at least a wrist slap, _something_.”  
Gabriel feigned a disappointed scowl. “Fine then, you want the truth? You shouldn’t have been here and you know it,” he scolded in a fatherly tone, just for impact; but after a few moments of letting him indulge in the reprimand, his expression softened and he reached for his hand again. “... but I’m glad you were.”   
Noah didn’t try to pull away again as his fingers curled over the top of his hand. The prior revulsion of being touched had since been ameliorated by the sincerity of his words. A nervous smile twitched at one corner of his mouth. “That's the first time I’ve heard you say _that_ \- or at least, it’s the first time you weren’t just _humoring me_ from behind the persona of Vincent Sharp.”  
“I’m serious.” 

The insistent look in his eyes was unwavering in its conviction. Clearly, he wasn’t lying about that either.   
“I only spoke to a few people all night before you arrived, none of whom were genial enough to make Serrano want to approach me. But then he saw _us_ talking, and, well… it was enough to solidify my alias.”  
Noah gave a haughty snort. Lynchpin move that it was, he pitied whatever odds for success the FBI had to begin with. “If Mr. Sharp greeted said _other_ guests with the same hospitality he showed Erwin, then it was no _wonder_ you needed a little help.”  
Gabriel rolled his eyes and let the scoff slide with a quiet smirk. “Either way, he gave me his story- seems like he never was quite sure of androids who weren’t deviant, let alone us; but he’s not funding the Inquisition. He’s in favor of giving us the space to find our own way.”  
“And how _exactly_ does that help your case against him?”  
“It adds one more missing piece to the puzzle,” Gabe explained. “He might not be the source, but he might be able to tell us who _is_ if asked the right questions.”  
Said with as straight a face as ever, Noah couldn’t help the barest of smirks at the memory of a time when his counterpart couldn’t stand being pelted with questions, much less asking them. A lot could change in a year. “Yes, well… lucky for you, you’ve been getting better with how to put those.”  
“As for your _performance…”_ His voice trailed off for a moment, fingers moved to lace with his and curl around his palm as he sighed defeatedly. “The Inquisition had disabled the fire alarm system by the time we knew they were here. There wouldn’t have been any way to evacuate the room short of shouting _‘FIRE_ ’. The best thing we could have done was to keep the guests calm and complacent. You risked your life to take Malachi’s focus off the other hostages. Casualties were minimized, all I did was stand there and look pretty.”  
“And spear the bad guy in the head with a Prada heel…” Noah corrected with a faint blush. No amount of underselling one’s importance in a given debacle went unanswered with him. Sally O’Rourke was probably more than happy to see her wardrobe’s sacrifice go to good use. She’d had the look of someone who wouldn’t tolerate a second musical interruption as politely as the first. “Nice throw, but… I never want to see another high heel as long as I live.”

The shift in the topic didn’t derail the praise as he had hoped, merely tripped Gabe up long enough to force him to take a pause and grin. “ _Point is_ , you did good. Who knows how much better or worse it would have been without you there... and even if you _did_ scare me, I was glad to have your support- professionally, _and_ emotionally.”   
A few more innocent bystanders’ deaths on the tally sheet, yet still he squeaked by to edge his way into ‘good’ graces. Noah swallowed any urge to bring that back up, knowing it’d only muddy whatever compliment was woven in there. It didn’t feel deserved, from where he sat. “Even if I violated your personal space to do so?”  
Gabriel flushed a tint deeper than before as he pulled their hands back into his lap again and directed his focus ahead of him. “You showed a degree of respect you hadn’t in the past, so… it’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”  
“Respect wasn’t a factor back then…” Coming from _either_ party. Noah glanced down at their hands, half expecting him to initiate a memory interface, though it didn’t come. That was apparently up to _him_ to decide on.   
“Still isn’t, to a degree,” Gabriel huffed with a handsome grin and a soft chuckle. “But, I can live with it.”  
Indeed, worse things had happened. What was an impulsive, drunken-yet-affectionate serenade from an old friend, compared to an attempt at a stolen kiss from someone he’d only just met two weeks prior?  
“You mean I didn’t _slay_ you with embarrassment? Oh dear, _mission failed_.”  
“No, you succeeded, but the world didn’t end, did it?” 

Gabriel’s fingertips nervously fidgeted against his hand, and he swallowed to expand the passages of his tightly clenched throat. Anxiety had finally gotten the best of him. “I ah-...” He started, then stopped, sighed quietly and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”  
Noah’s ear twitched involuntarily and he made a quarter-turn effort to glance at him suspiciously out of the corners of his eyes. “... Pretty sure I heard that right.”  
“You heard me,” he mumbled with a playful nudge, without looking up.  
Maybe, but it didn’t hurt to double-check that it wasn’t some figment of addled imagination. “I’m sorry, too, for… complicating things.” It was as articulate of an apology as Noah could manage. He wasn’t thirsty for anything more than quiet understanding. The rapid-fire shots of rum had already been cause for enough drama without the Inquisition ruining the mood. “Don’t worry, Gabe, I won’t go _a capella_ on you now.”  
“You didn’t complicate anything,” he chuckled with a shy smile. “If you hadn’t crashed the party and wrote yourself into my alias’ history, I might have failed my directive.”

The compliment helped, but any pride he might have felt was tempered by the knowledge people had still died that night. Tomorrow there would be press coverage of this running on no less than five major news networks, three local outlets, and dozens of online tabloids. He couldn’t allow himself any congratulations, regardless of whether or not the distraction he had brought to the table had somehow prevented more casualties from occurring, or if it helped Gabe accomplish his mission.  
_If you say so_ , he conceded at last. Noah leaned down just enough to nuzzle his cheek against Gabe’s shoulder to avoid looking at him. He let the skin on his hand peel back and lay the sensors bare instead of weeping over these most recent regrets. Sometimes emulating a human show of sorrow was just too much effort to queue up, and there had been enough theatrics for one night already. 

As if he’d been anticipating the gesture, Gabriel reciprocated in time out of respect and insisting curiosity- it wasn’t like Noah to simply go quiet, much less agree with him. The flow of data gave him just enough insight into what was on his mind without needing to prod.   
“None of what happened with Malachi was your fault,” he tried to reassure. “It’s... just how he operates. And if you think he’s bad, Gideon was worse.”  
There was an appropriate, if unwelcome comparison. The RK5 responsible for overthrowing Boston knew what worked for dramatic shock value, the same as his subordinate. To think their series were ever in any way related made Noah grimace in revulsion every time. “I can imagine. I saw that- _weasel_ in passing while I was locked up. He knew what was wrong with me at a glance.”  
"If you had been under _his_ control, you'd be even more mixed up than you are now.” Like Waylon and Malachi, both still very much affected by their time with him- one trying to de-program and _be better_ , the other succumbing to the madness. “It's a good thing you never had to deal with him. Silver lining, I guess."  
“The lining is having people like Hannah and Kate, and... _yourself_ around. If it weren’t for you-” Noah paused to rethink his choice of words, drew back, then amended mid-thought, “ _You all_ , tonight would probably have been the end of it.”  
“It’s alright… you know, you _can_ thank me for saving your life,” Gabe teased with a charming, flirtatious smirk. “C’mon… you think I'd let you off that easy?”

Neither he nor anyone else typically saw fit to forgive his grievances in the past. Noah‘s eyebrows drew together in a set, disgruntled line at that thought. Even if things _had_ changed, he was so used to beating himself up, basic manners still escaped his focus now and then. “If it made life simpler for you, yes.”  
Gabe snorted in disapproval. " _Please…_ since when has _simple_ ever been a staple of my life _or yours_?"  
“A guy can dream, can’t he?” However peeved he meant for that to sound, Noah conceded the argument with a sigh and a soft squeeze at his hand in reply. The glow of the panels went dark and the skin reformed. “In any case, thanks for the assistance.”

For just a moment, the flutter came back with the delivery of his ‘thanks’. However small or insignificant the gesture seemed, it was a bigger deal to _him_ than expected. It was the first time he remembered Noah thanking him for _anything_.  
Gabe’s smile dropped, his pupils contracted, his eyelids faltered just barely, and whatever uncertainty he’d shaken off came back to plop itself right back on his chest like a lead weight. 

His delayed response of “Don’t mention it…” carried a bemused air about it that was only shattered by Falken’s loud whistling from down the hall behind them. Both turned halfway to glimpse the man’s harried gesture to _‘Come here’_ , though only Gabe responded to it with an expectant groan and a sigh.   
“Uh oh, Coach looks pissed,” Noah sassed as his expression dropped. All of these interruptions were really starting to grate. So long as this one didn’t end with the promised bullet in a leg, he supposed it was tolerable.  
“I'll be right back, stay here.”  
“Actually I was-” The fleeting will to protest went as quickly as it came, the moment their eyes met. Apparently, their conversation wasn’t over, and he would only find trouble in disobeying. Besides, no talk they had ever had before this ever really ended on a sound conclusion. “... going to sit _right_ here as ordered, yes, sir.”

Gabe stood and moved to leave, only to find himself stopped by a slight tugging at his arm. Brows twitched in confusion as he looked back, and found Noah's hand still latched onto his, curled tight, refusing to release. The gesture softened him, but only for a moment.   
As soon as Noah looked up and saw the stern squint asking him to let him go, he complied with a shy ‘Sorry’ in response.  
It didn’t feel right, just leaving him like that. It had been a stressful night, and he didn’t want to leave him there alone any more than Noah wanted to be _left_ alone. After another moment of deliberation, he turned back and squatted before him on the stairs while fiddling with his corsage.   
Noah blinked, his LED went forebodingly red, and he sharply leaned back out of his personal space as he leaned in to affix it to his lapel, opposite of the Zion pin. “Wh-what are you-”  
“ _Relax_.” Gabe cupped one enormous hand over his jaw and pressed his lips to his other cheek with a quick but firm kiss that _Erwin_ nearly melted into. It wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t fair of him to peck and run, but being at such a loss for words ( _not quite trusting himself to not crumble and get overly emotional then and there_ ), he could only gawk and pout to communicate his dismay.  
“Don’t go anywhere, and make sure you call Hannah and let her know you’re alright.”  
Noah only nodded, though he hesitated to let go of Gabe’s hand, even if the corsage pinned to his jacket was a welcome vote of reassurance. It was very wry of him to assume he was any kind of ‘alright’ after the night’s events, though it wasn’t the most demanding thing being asked of him. If he could suffer Malachi’s insults, Hannah’s fretting was nothing.

Any lingering feeling of warmth and familiarity left with Gabe as his hand slipped away at last, and he watched him walk back down the hall toward the Green Rooms in the direction of the Auditorium. The silence at that end of the building was both soothing and unsettling, because if there was one thing the night had taught him thus far, it was that trouble liked disrupting comfort.   
Noah only dallied on that thought for about thirty seconds more before he called Hannah as instructed. Even though they had parted on bad terms earlier in the day, her voice was another welcome reminder he was never as cut off as his broken subroutines told him he _should be_. 

_Noah! Thank RA9… I saw the news and I was so worried.  
_ For the time being, he muzzled the sick segment of code already guilt-tripping him for making her worry _yet again_. He wasn’t so naïve to think she would have never done the math, but here they were, no more than an hour since, and she had already put two and two together. No getting out of it now.  
_I’m fine. You can thank Gabriel for that_ , he admitted without thinking. _He handled the situation with a poise I wasn’t even aware he had.  
_ There was yet another dynamic that had ended up opposite of how it began. Every pain he had taken to try and distance himself for the sake of Hannah’s career in the public eye, had proven to have the exact opposite effect. After being in a relationship for two years during several crises, he should have known better; but at the same time, he couldn’t gauge her reactions any more than he could curb the sporadic desire to self-destruct whenever the chance presented itself. Since the virus, there had been so many conflicting prompts that chafed and caught and splintered whenever they brushed together. It had resulted in too much irrational, uncalled for behavior from him, and yet she _still_ treated him as if he were the same dashing, untroubled person who’d whisked her off to Cincinnati on a whim. 

_Will you be coming home tonight…?  
_ The question was as innocent as it was foreboding and expected. From one day to the next he didn’t know whether to thank her or curse her for the continued attentions, if he should remain aloof or try to break the cycle of separation and grovel at her feet, begging for forgiveness. He only ever got the reaction he was after every time he railed at her for simply never telling him he was in the wrong, as he knew had to be, but he hated how that made her feel, and how it made _him_ feel, having to resort to such browbeating.  
That evening’s distraction still pended in his deciding what he had been trying to accomplish, to that end. People might have thought him exhausting to keep up with, and they would be right, but not for the reasons they assumed.  
_The FBI needs me here, for the time being, and you still have speeches to make. Try focusing on that, at least for Kamski’s sake._

He’d ended the call on that thought. Letting her protest would only prolong the agony; physically, he was fine, but no, he wouldn’t be back that evening, or maybe even the next day. Returning now would only mean another painful circulating argument, and that was one too many stressors on top of an already hectic evening. Sometimes it was better to leave her in the suspense of not knowing than to give her the truth. At least that way, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her more than he already was.  
This had become their norm, since the outbreak- Noah disappearing for a few days at a time as he tried in vain to clear his head while obsessing over every hint of corrupted behavior surfacing in New Jericho, Hannah begging him to just come home and talk to her… but talking never helped solve the struggles he faced alone. And as much as she tried, Hannah - _rA9 bless her_ \- just couldn’t understand that unstoppable urge in his code to try to make that right again, using whatever means he had left. She didn’t know how every time he looked at her he was reminded of what she was in for, and how she deserved so much better than him.   
Maybe all Noah had been looking to accomplish by blowing up the FBI’s spot that evening was to escape from the disaster of his life at large, but Gabriel had one thing going for him that Hannah, or anybody else, didn’t. Amongst the hurricane of all the rest, he was the calm at the eye of the storm that made _sense_. How much simpler could it get?

Encroaching footsteps brought the present back into focus just in time to catch the tail end of Gabriel’s parting conversation with Falken, twenty minutes later.   
_Go back to playing Vincent Sharp until further notice, report back only if you need a second opinion. Otherwise, we’ll be listening.  
_ _Understood, Director.  
_ Noah eyed him as he stood there a few moments longer and put his persona back together. He didn’t think it possible for him to look even more handsome than he already did, but the brown eyes, bearded face, faded rosy brown undercut and fake prescription glasses ( _as extra as they were_ ) was an incredibly good look for him. It certainly sold the idea he wasn’t the same surly, moody renegade nine who had laid a punch on him after being briefed on what the mistletoe tradition entailed, should one be dangled over his head ( _as Noah had demonstrated_ ). As he had since explained, he wasn’t in the most receptive headspace last year, either.  
He hadn’t _needed_ to wear one to the event. And seeing how he had voluntarily handed it over, there wasn’t much point in letting it’s company go to waste. To do otherwise came off more like a wasted gesture. And the thought it could have was offensive enough, he couldn’t let it go unresolved.

Yvonne wouldn’t turn down that dare. With his mind made up, he unclipped the corsage with a flick of his wrist, waited until the footsteps drew close enough, then turned back with one arm held poised over his head. It was no less dramatic and haughty than he had acted before now. “Aren’t you forgetting something…?”  
Gabe might have tried to find an excuse to say no, but seeing as he’d been told to resume his pretending, _Vincent_ had no reason to deny him. Gabriel heaved a tired sigh from behind his alias and shook his head in disbelief. “ _C'est vrai, monsieur?_ ”  
“ _C'est vrai, oui_ ,” he mimicked with perfect inflection and a pop of his brows. “You couldn’t have _possibly_ expected me to let you get away with that _poor excuse_ for a mistletoe kiss, did you? Come on now, we’ve a tradition to uphold!”

It was the last part of his argument that finally stoked a reaction from him. Noah cringed and shut his eyes tight on instinct as Gabriel’s _bear paw_ hands lunged down to lift him right up off the stairs. The last time he’d come at him in such a manner, he’d hit him hard enough to fracture the seam lines in his cheek.  
This time, however, he did nothing of the sort.   
Blue eyes blinked open in confusion as gentle hands clasped around his cheeks and jaw. They weren’t as spidery as Priya’s, but the pressure alone was instant cause for distress, until he felt his lips on the apple of his cheek. Noah stared wide-eyed and red-faced over his shoulder and let out a fluttery whine as he pushed into his touch, his free hand lifted to curl around his wrist. There was no immediate drawback _that_ time, and Gabe exhaled jaggedly as he leaned into him, far enough to tap his forehead to Noah’s. For several long moments, he lingered like this, then pulled away just far enough to run the tip of his nose alongside his, from bridge to tip.   
“ _Je suis contente?_ ” he whispered tenderly as Noah’s lips instinctively searched the air for his, a breath away.   
Dumbstruck and unsure of how to process the moment, Noah only managed an uncertain, lazy ‘uh-huh’ as he ducked his head and buried it in Gabriel's shoulder, as his companion slipped his arms around him and stroked at the back of his head. It was a _welcome_ improvement over their first attempt at following the tradition, but he honestly never thought he’d get that far. It would do, for the time being.

“Come, _monsieur_ , let us head back for the night… I sink we could both use ze rest after zis evening.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys come to an agreement on where their relationship stands, for the time being, and awake the next morning to an unexpected request from Serrano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Christmas Eve, 2041 - 12:38 AM**

The distance from the venue to the hotel was as much a blur as anything else had become after the initial shots fired. ‘ _Vincent_ ’ led him out of the building to retrieve his car from the hapless valet, Fredrick ( _who was still dutifully on the job, earning his promised fifty-dollar tip_ ), but Noah didn’t even bother to inspect the vehicle for new scratches per his usual routine. He didn’t have the want or the energy. Instead, he handed the boy his reward without so much as a second glance.   
As Gabe helped him into the passenger’s seat, Noah watched with a wary glance that was too tired to convey discomfort or give proper protest, even as he looped around the front end of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. 

Not a single person other than himself had driven it since he’d acquired it, but Gabe had finesse where it counted. It seemed the practice he’d gotten when he’d stolen Gavin’s Charger on impulse hadn’t gone to waste, judging by the way he handled the stick-shift ‘63 XKE Roadster like he’d been driving it all his life.   
So at the very least, he could rest assured the car would make it back in one piece if he had anything to say about it.   
The drive across town to the hotel was quiet, accompanied by the hum of the engine and the ambient noise of the road outside rather than a selection of music that would have been vaguely disquieting in how aloof it would feel in the wake of a tragedy. Gabe’s eyes remained transfixed on the road the whole trip to the hotel, but his free hand still periodically wandered sideways to trace his pinky over Noah’s hand. The first two times, he ignored the gesture out of a paranoid need for distance, but when he came back a third, he spread his palm and eagerly entwined his fingers with the man’s gloved hand. Noah sunk down in the seat, curled over in the corner and watched the street lights flicker over his face each time they passed beneath one. The way things had turned out, he’d wake up the next day thinking he only got through the night in some sort of mechanical dream state, remembering bits and pieces and the disconnected feelings associated with them.  
But it’d still be a stronger recollection than some nights he had passed since being fired from Archangel.

Ten minutes later, Gabriel handed the keys to the Jag off to the hotel valet, a guarantee its owner wouldn’t be going _anywhere_ unless he allowed it ( _or unless Noah stole his pick-up slip_ ). They strolled through the ornate, dimly lit after-hours lobby to the greeting of “ _Welcome back, Mr. Sharp_ ” from the bellhop behind the counter, and boarded an elevator that was as disappointing as it was slow. For all the opportunity of privacy it afforded, the lewdest thing either of them got out of it was a little arm-holding, victorian and proper, followed by a brief walk to the door at the end of the hall.   
The executive suite opened up into a large room carpeted in a beige and blue-gray hexagonal design about twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep, with a single king-sized bed in the middle of the wall ( _just past the bathroom to the left upon entering_ ); a black, floating headboard consisting of three long, horizontal planks and a reading lamp on either side, adorned the wall above a completely white bed set. At the foot of the bed, against the right wall, a large cherrywood armoire stood beside a matching writing table to the right of a slate gray recliner. Further back in front of the window taking up the entire back wall, behind a modern, decorative wall, two couches on either side of a glass-top, oval coffee table decorated a living room next to a small breakfast nook.  
It was much more sleek and modern than one might have guessed for a man of Mr. Sharp’s expensive tastes, but it was just enough to provide the comforts of home without feeling too cramped for space, or too overstimulated. 

Noah didn’t even bother to undress- he entered the room, slipped his hand out of Gabriel’s arm, and collapsed on the bed, abandoning all thought of somehow making the act seem enticing or graceful.   
Gabriel removed his gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of his coat, which he removed and hung in the coat-nook outside the bathroom, then stooped down to fuss with the safe on the floor.   
The skin over his hand peeled back to his wrist and interfaced with the lock, which popped open with a metallic _click_. He swiped the government-issued cell phone off the top shelf, stood and crossed the room, then sat down in the recliner and switched on the radio on the table beside it to whatever station it had been tuned to the last time he’d made the phone call. _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ by Bing Crosby crooned loudly enough to drown out the ambient noise of their conversation, to anyone else who might have been listening through a wall or via a planted bug. Noah simply tuned out the music with a sound filter and dialed in on the conversation between Gabriel and Emilya instead. 

The call started simple enough with a few minutes of the expected: _There was an incident, this is what happened, it’s been resolved_ , the details of which Noah voluntarily missed to get more comfortable. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know from firsthand experience, so there was no need to recount the details a _tenth_ time.   
He rolled over and scooted back, crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and reclined against the headboard with a weary sigh as he waited for his turn to come around. Without Gabriel’s undivided attention, there was simply no reason for him to put forth the extra fuss when he didn’t have much left in him to begin with. 

“But there is one other thing,” Gabe stopped mid-elaboration to rub at the back of his neck with one hand as he leaned over his knees and settled his gaze on the floor. “... Noah’s here.”  
There was a brief pause and an audible sigh on the other end of the line before Noah deciphered her response over the connection. _Of course he is. Did you really think that after the Raids, he’d possibly miss whatever worst-case scenario befell you next time around?  
_ A bemused half-smirk tugged into Gabriel’s cheeks. "Him being in DC for this is just a coincidence." _  
_ _Please,_ Emilya scoffed. The excuse was paper-thin at best, and _she_ the razor that sliced through it mercilessly. The _second he caught wind of what was going on tonight, he got that twinkle in his eye as if he just HAD to intervene. Trouble follows you two wherever you go._

Noah frowned as he brushed the non-existent glitter effect out of his hair, suddenly keen for a distraction rather than listen to her disdain. He glanced at his reflection in a circular mirror on the wall to his right and caught a glimpse of the Zion sigil pin, still affixed to his lapel. He had only added the accessory as an afterthought, a decoration intended to further sell his alias. The thought to take it off and set it aside hadn’t yet crossed his mind, but as he looked at it again, he realized he could do without any reminders of his problematic, long-running corruption investigation, souring whatever became of the rest of the evening. It was bad enough whatever funding might have been contributed to Zion, DC’s plans would probably be refunded to its rightful contributors.  
What had Malachi said? What was “ _one pathetic, sullied life worth in trade for a thriving, potentially-productive district_ ”?

Fingers hastily reached for the pin, fumbling as if he couldn’t get it off fast enough; his phone and Ray-Bans followed, arranged in a neat pile of accessories in the drawer of the nightstand. But when he reached for his wallet and realized what he had left inside of it, he paused, trembling hands going still with a silent, withering fervor.   
For the most part, the thing was more a catch-all for odds and ends rather than currency- it’s billfold compartment contained what was left of his tipping money, a few business cards, photo ID’s, and the mandatory _condom_ ( _as silly as it seemed, he’d had enough human partners complain in the past to justify the habit_ ).   
But the most important, and most precious of the contents, was a stainless steel bracelet that looked plain at a glance. Noah slipped the item out of its pouch and held it between his fingers like the treasured artifact it was. The skin projection on the pad of his thumb flickered softly as it brushed across the surface and revealed a hidden message in holographic blue lettering, visible only to him: 

‘ _Love me until I’m me again.'_

Hannah had inscribed and gifted it to him eight months prior, not long after the Elysian Outbreak. She had been so scared of losing him then, but nowadays it seemed more like she was preparing herself for the inevitability, no matter how vehemently she despised the very notion. For all the pains he had taken to distance himself, she always doubled down, dug her heels in and held firm, refusing to give up on him.   
On the bad days, he still wondered if she truly felt so strongly about keeping their relationship alive, trying to salvage what was left of his old self from the wreck he paraded around in these days. She had hopes, while he had only doubts. But keeping the bracelet on him at all times ( _even when he couldn’t wear it_ ) was a handy mental tether to have.  
Or, in his current case, a welcome distraction from the _uncomfortable_ conversation Gabriel was having with Emilya about ‘ _them_ ’.

“ _There’s… something you should know- something we discussed, and it… affects you as much as it does me."_

Noah clenched his teeth and focused more intently on the item in his hand, dwelling on the cold sting of his parting words to the woman who had given him _everything_ and more. One more regret to add to the tally sheet. Hannah didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his depressed frustrations, over and over. He’d really have to do something special to make it up to her, this time. 

_“Noah finally came clean about his affections for me, and… he wants to be more to me than just a friend.”_

Even if Gabe’s voice was just a faint echo in the distance, it was one of only two he cared to hear in his moments of vulnerability. Just… not in the context of speaking with the only other person who could make or break his hemorrhaging heart. Being _with_ Gabriel wouldn’t immediately solve all of his problems, but it might make them easier to endure, having his love and understanding. Only he’d never know if he wasn’t allowed to find out. 

_And…? What did you say to him?_

There was such a long pause between Emilya’s question and Gabriel’s answer. It exacerbated the anxious feeling of needing to know. In the year since they’d met, they had finally reached _Periapsis-_ the point in the path of an orbiting solar body at which it is nearest to the planet it orbits. In spite of having the emotional depth of a teaspoon early on, there was just something magnetic about Gabriel he couldn’t explain, that went deeper than being the same model, something he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried. Something had pulled him into his orbit and locked them in chronic apsis.  
Until the outbreak. A few drinks a couple of months later had changed _everything_ for them, knocked out of synchronous orbit.

 _“I didn’t… have an answer for him.”_ It both was and wasn’t true. A cheek-kiss under mistletoe said a lot more about his state of mind than he knew, considering their history.   
_Well, how does it make you feel?  
_ Gabe paused to think, leaned back in his chair to cross one ankle over the opposite knee, and stared straight up at the ceiling. “ _Conflicted_ ,” he admitted. “ _I care for him, I think I would ‘like’ if we were… more… but I’ve made a commitment to you I’m not going to break.”_

Not that he would _have to_ ‘break’ any commitment he was currently in, to allow him to be a part of their relationship. Noah wasn’t out to _replace_ anyone, but he simply couldn’t keep quiet about what he wanted any longer. Even if they’d had their differences, even if they had their own ways of dealing with discomfort, the truth was with every atom of his very _being_ , Noah knew he _belonged_ _with_ him, and separation was absolute torture.   
Much like listening to him discuss the potential _they_ with his future missus.

 _“We can talk about it more when I see you again… the truth is, I don’t even really know how I feel about it yet.”  
_ _That makes both of us,_ she replied with a resigned pause, then added a few moments later. _So… you might as well have fun with it while you can._

Emilya didn’t seem like she particularly approved or disapproved, judging by her tone ( _after all, it was as close to permission as she could give, for now_ ). Nevertheless, it didn’t seem good enough for the man frowning at Noah from across the room.

Gabe took in a strained, shallow breath, tightened his jaw, and closed his eyes as he hung his head and pressed his fingers into his eyes. “ _I’m sorry we’re having this conversation over the phone, but… I didn’t want to keep it from you. It wouldn’t have been right.”  
_ _I appreciate your honesty, Gabriel,_ she reassured, _And I have no doubt you wouldn’t leave me, even if your life depended on it. The timing is just unfortunate._

It was _always_ unfortunate, that was nothing new. Noah was constantly reminding himself _and_ everyone around him of as much. One could only hope they picked the least upsetting moment to rock the boat.

A heartfelt exchange of _‘I love you’s_ ended the conversation fifteen minutes after it had begun ( _a short one, considering the ground it had covered so quickly_ ). Noah took one last look at the lit inscription before he slipped the bracelet back into the wallet, stowed it in the drawer and picked up exactly where their conversation had left off, no more than a minute later.  
“So... how’d she take it?” Even though he’d heard nearly every word, despite trying to ignore them, Noah pretended he hadn’t, in the hope it would make for a slightly easier talk.

Gabriel set the phone down on the end table under the lamp behind his chair, paused to bury his face in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair with a quiet groan. “She was… _surprisingly_ calm.” The same obviously didn’t go for him, given the way he now pulled at his hair with a certain air of _I’m doomed_.   
Noah let the statement hang unanswered before deciding on an appropriately-irreverent quip. “... ‘Poor bastard’, question mark?”  
It failed to do the trick. “She said to _have_ _fun with it, while I can_... it’s not a yes or no, but it still feels like a threat...” he groaned again and tented his fingers over the bridge of his nose and his mouth. “Why can’t she just be clear about what she does and doesn’t want?”

Noah rolled his eyes. He hadn’t forgotten what he had seen at the apartment a few hours before arriving at the auditorium- Emilya was all of five foot nothing, once some inches were redacted, and at the moment her expanded figure looked like something from a horror movie, nothing any other Android’s _ever_ had. What with that inorganic nanite-based _monster_ growing inside of her, her mind _had_ to have been working in all manner of funny ways no software engineer could have ever predicted; and having experienced the most terrifying first few months of the process first-hand, Gabriel should have known better how she’d react than Noah could surmise.   
But he chalked part of it up to nerves. His counterpart’s stress readouts were rocking like a hurricane again. 

“ _Pft_ , sounds more like a warning to me,” he scoffed and crossed his arms. “I saw what she looks like- how far along is she now… four? Five months? None of our kind have ever been put through the wringer quite like she is, ergo no one was able to tell her what to expect. So how is _she_ supposed to know _what she wants_ , with the state she’s in?”  
It was more clarity than Gabe thought Noah capable of, after all they’d been through that evening, which was how he could tell he was deflecting. His brows knit together, and he squinted over at him as he half-stood and moved to the edge of the bed. “I at least expected her to get a little mad, maybe ask me to explain, not just... _accept it_ and brush it off. It feels like a trap.”  
“And _I’m_ the bait? How clever, if it’s the right thing to call it.” Noah rethought the cold tone he used the second it was out of his mouth. Those were not the most assuring words- if he wanted to prove he _could be_ good for this arrangement, he’d have to show he could provide insight from an impartial perspective in such situations. 

“... _But_ if you consider all the stress she’s already under, wouldn’t it make sense for her to not let what’s beyond her control compound it? And besides, considering what you went through tonight, her not demanding an explanation right away should be more of a relief.”  
“It should, but it’s not. I don’t know what to do with _that_.” Gabe paused and ran his hand through his hair and grew back his longer, darker style, then stroked down over his face with both hands to clear the projection of his beard and rid himself of his alias once again. “It’s been a long time since we haven’t talked out our issues ‘ _in the moment’_ , and not talking is what caused so much friction early on.” The brown color drained out of his irises, replaced by bright blue; he grimaced with a sigh. “I just don’t want to end up back there again… not that it can be _helped_.”

Noah shook his head and scooted down to rest on the pillow instead of the unforgiving wall behind him. “Just be glad she’s in no state to go out partying… and _you’re_ more in touch than you were the first time around. Your odds of working through it are much better these days. RA9 _knows_ how fast some of us had to ‘grow up’.”  
Gabe scoffed and rolled his eyes as his fingers moved to unbutton his waistcoat. “You’re one to talk.”   
Unfair. And here he was trying to be supportive. Noah squinted as Gabe reached out and tossed his waistcoat over the chair he had just been sitting in. “ _Beg pardon_?”  
When he didn’t snap back with a sassy retort, he knew the tone of the conversation hadn’t yet shifted. 

For half a minute, Gabe sat there with his back to him, rubbing one thumb into the palm of his hand, and contemplated a response. It hadn’t eluded him how Noah visibly flinched at the mention of Hannah an hour prior, and how he made no mention of needing to head back to her anytime soon. At one point, she had been his biggest priority, his _world_ , and they had been virtually inseparable ( _as attested to the first time Gabe had accidentally walked in on them getting intimate on the job_ ).  
But _now…_   
“What’s goin’ on with you and Hannah these days… are you _okay_?”

In Noah’s present state of mind, a blunt question merited a blunt answer. “I’m sharing a hotel room with _you_ instead of _her_ ,” he replied with an angry crinkle in his brow.  
“ _And_ telling me you’d like there to be more than just friendship between us- that’s _why_ I’m asking.”  
“Oh, well,” he scoffed with a hint of disbelief hidden deep in his tone. “ _That’s_ nothing new to her. She told me some time ago she would be more than okay with the idea of-… you and me.”   
Gabriel blinked in surprise and turned halfway around to face him. “You never mentioned _that_.”  
“Not like it would have mattered if it had come up- you and _Emilya_ were already making eyes at each other… when you weren’t fighting, that is.” All of this back and forth was just tit-for-tat. Noah wanted to get off track, but not like this, and not with Gabriel watching him with such insistent eyes. It would have been the cowardly thing to do. 

Instead, Noah sighed and threw his hands up in defeat as he circled back to his question. “And, to answer your _question_ , no, we’re not okay. As for _‘what’_ is going on- nothing harmonious, I can tell you that much. Anything beyond falls under the ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing’ clause.”  
“Used to be, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and _you_ couldn’t go half a day without checking in with her,” he noted with a look of confusion and pity mixed with sadness. Gabriel’s eyes went soft as his gaze settled on the air beside Noah, the same space Hannah once occupied, then darted back to meet his eyes. “... What happened?”  
He sat up on his elbows. The simple motion felt like three times the struggle it should have been. Some flickering alert in his vision warned of already-low power levels quickly reaching the redline threshold. “What? You don’t watch the news? They won the bloody election. Hannah seems to think it means I’ll soon be sharing quarters with her on Capitol Hill.”   
As if the mini-rant wasn’t telling enough, Gabe followed it up with, “... you mean you _won’t_ be?”

Sighing, Noah flopped back down to drape one hand over his eyes. The day had run too long to still be having any kind of circular conversation over the painfully-obvious estrangement. “Pft! _No_. This face won’t be caught dead within a _mile_ of that place, no matter how fetching it is.” Hypothetically speaking, he wouldn’t be the first ( _or worst_ ) RK to ever grace DC. That title went to a little upstart Eight calling himself Lincoln. Even so- as far as the public was concerned, _The Elysian_ had no business being around Congress.  
“And you’re _sure_ that’s got nothing to do with _me_ …?”   
It hadn’t initially, but being forced to stop and examine the timing...   
It was only shrewd to be one hundred percent certain on matters of such a deeply personal nature, even if it was annoying ( _and, in Noah’s opinion, rather “Reed-like” to make the issue “about him”_ ) at the moment. 

“Believe it or not, _no_ , our distance has absolutely _jack all_ to do with the feelings I’ve been harboring for you.”  
Gabe sighed at the bitter edge in his response. “I’m just being thorough. This is the first I’m hearing of it, and the timing is hard to ignore… but if you say so, I believe you.”  
Considering Noah’s credibility was already shot to pieces, Gabriel taking him at his word was a nice endorsement, but he didn’t allow himself to get hung up on it. Instead he paused, then peeked out from under his fingers, and sharply changed the topic. “Your turn- little birdies say you and Em are actually... serious? Even without them, I can see that for myself, the way she was bending your ear.”

Gabe leered tiredly over his shoulder from the edge of the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Yes. I proposed a few days ago,” he explained. His fingers came to a stop on the second to last button over his belly. The silence to meet it was disquieting, or at least, that’s how he interpreted the look of ‘ _May rA9 have mercy on your soul’_ Noah paid such a revelation.   
It was common nature for perpetual bachelors to frown on the idea of commitment, but given where they found themselves that night, Noah kept his disgruntlement limited to an impartial sniff.   
“You’re letting your statement hang unfinished, you tease,” he reminded mirthlessly as he pushed the pillow aside and sat up again. “I gather she said yes because if she hadn’t, those birdies wouldn’t have been _half_ as chirpy.” 

The lack of open dejection was a worrying hint as to how apathetically this news was received, like he wasn’t taking it seriously. “Of course she did,” Gabe answered just as he pushed apart the last button. “We haven’t set a date yet though, since Congress is still settling the laws on that...” He leaned over his knees on his elbows and gave him the opportunity to say _something_ in response, but when nothing came, he turned and prompted him again. “You don’t... have an opinion?”  
“I’d sob hysterically if I thought it’d change anything,” Noah retorted, flat as a plank, then lifted a finger to count as he launched into a slightly manic rant. “But one- I know better. Two- I’m too spent for that. Three- I _detest_ what I sound like when I cry, and _four…_ ” His voice trailed off and his expression dropped before looking over to watch him slip off his shirt and drape it over the back of the adjacent chair with the other clothing. “I’m actually _happy for you_ , even if I don’t exactly meet the exuberance threshold right now.” Noah gestured vaguely and let his hand drop back onto the comforter with a dispirited flop. “Difficult or not, I can see you two’ve been good for each other. After learning what is and isn’t worth needling and bickering about, you got it right... what I said about growing up applies more to you than most people I know.”  
Gabriel didn’t stop undressing as he listened to and digested every last word. He wasn’t sure what to say in regards to “ _them_ ”, considering one very large, unavoidable detail: he would _never_ consider leaving Emilya for him, if it came to that. 

After he’d removed his socks and shoes, he stood and slipped his pants off one leg at a time, unfazed by the presence of his blushing company, and slipped into a pair of loose cotton pants.   
No response didn’t necessarily mean he disapproved, but he couldn’t help stressing over it all the same. Noah went quiet and busied himself with removing his blazer and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then draped the shed garments on the spare hangars in the closet near the door, kicked his shoes off and discarded them on the carpet beside the bed.   
When he noticed Noah had only stripped as far as the waist ( _because of his lack of bedclothes_ ), Gabriel doubled back to the armoire, pulled out an extra pair of light sweatpants, and dropped them onto the bed beside him on his way to shut off the light.  
Pants being left on was positively chaste by Noah’s standards, but considering their current state, only fair. “Thanks, again.” He abided by the request and changed, folded his pants into a neat pile and set them on top of his shoes, then pulled back the comforter and claimed the side of the bed closest to the door. The music stopped, the room darkened except for the ambient glow from the accessory on Noah’s temple and the overhead LED strip built into the headboard.   
Gabe looped around the edge of the bed and climbed into the other side about as daintily as an overeager dog, and shuffled up to his backside with a heavy sigh.   
Noah glanced halfway over his shoulder just as the man raised his chin and laid his cheek across his neck and shoulder, then wrapped him up in ( _what could only be described as_ ) a suffocatingly tender bear hug.

The whole act seemed like a gesture of acceptance, at a glance. Earlier in the evening, it was exactly the kind of affection Erwin would have lapped up without a second thought; but being who they were at the moment, Noah knew better than to take it at face value.   
“... Oh, you-” he half-sputtered as he pushed at his arms with half-drawn up hands, even if he knew it’d get him nowhere. Habit demanded he try. “What’s your malfunction? I said I was _happy for you_ , not disappointed.”   
Gabe only squeezed him tighter in reply and pulled him back to fill whatever space was left between them. “I know... and I appreciate it…” he conceded in his low baritone but hesitated to finish the thought. Following a deep, pensive exhale it finally dropped.  
“I’m sensing another unfinished thought. Let it out already.”  
Gabe lowered his gaze to the side of his head and watched the light ring flicker softly from blue to yellow, and back again. “That doesn’t mean... I’m not willing to consider what we talked about, it’s just…”  
“You aren’t sure what to do,” Noah finished, in as unaffected a tone as he could manage, eyes deadlocked on the wall across from him. As much as he wanted to be upset, there wasn’t anything left to be upset over. This was where they were. Gabe used the word ‘consider’ after all, and worse had happened that night, only best described as bite-sized mayhem. None of it was cause to keep being huffy, and wringing themselves dry was no way to start any new stage of a relationship. 

“You need to prioritize- whatever time you need to figure it out, take it. I can’t-... _fault you_ for being indecisive when I epitomize it.”  
Unlike before, that bit of wisdom did the trick. Gabe turned and buried his face further into his shoulder in reply and nodded quietly against the curve of his neck. “I need time... and permission.”  
Noah vented another sigh and let the last of the tension out of his arms and legs. The sheets were clean, the atmosphere too calm and relaxed, and the comforter too plush to not appreciate the soft feeling of security he was now wrapped in. It was more than some people had, waking up to horrid phone calls delivering the gut-wrenching news their loved ones had been killed at a charity event. Perhaps it was selfish of him to only care about him and his own now, but he wasn’t the only person to survive who was doing the same. 

“Maybe I’ve been- thinking about it for too long… but now that I’m jobless, what else do I do with my days?” Noah forced a self-deprecating smile and huffed. “Conspiracy boards can only handle so much yarn.”  
“You’ve clearly thought about it more than I have,” Gabriel agreed, “So how do you figure it? How does this work?”  
The question almost caught him off guard. It was new for him to look to Noah for answers, and although he didn’t have one readily prepared, he did his best. “... Being alone did neither of us any favors; if anything, it drove us both half-mad. So as long as we aren’t at odds, we can at least call each other friends...” He paused to chew on the idea a moment longer. “With or without benefits is up to _you_ … and your little _minx_ of a fiancée.”

A hand shuffled around in the silence, searching for his once again, peeled back the projection of his skin, and quietly threaded their fingers in reply. It was enough to get his thoughts across without any more words, and that much managed to get a smile out of Noah, however small and tentative.  
Tempting as it was to keep the discussion going, right then the smartest thing they could do was power down and let their bodies ( _and minds_ ) rest. All of the emotional strain sure wasn’t doing any wonders for already-overtaxed processors.  
He burrowed closer to Gabe’s chest, wrapped himself tighter in his arm, and squeezed back at what he could of his hand. “... right, then, good talk.”

Five minutes later and Gabriel was dead to the world, his breathing cycle completely stopped. Even though _he_ was tired enough to rest for the first time in a while, Noah didn’t immediately follow. For once, not even the dread of what he might see replayed in a state of inactivity could keep him from it.   
Noah’s eyes tentatively glanced at their entwined hands every few minutes in the hour that followed, until finally, he let down his guard and let himself _look_. The projection on his hand faded away to reveal the bare white plastic, and he fell asleep to the divine sight of the soft blue glow of reacting receptors on the backs of his fingers and the underside of Gabriel’s enormous palm.

**Christmas Eve - 8:02 AM**

Noah woke first the next morning to a few stray rays of sunlight streaming over Gabriel’s shoulder through the gap in the drapes across the room. His HUD booted up, segmented and divided into a dozen cascaded interfaces, each window sporting newly-compiled data of a predetermined category, though his diagnostics took second place to a CTN channel’s current broadcast. He momentarily tuned in to listen to the morning anchor rattle off a medley of top headlines, teasing what was to come:

_“... one of the last Cyberlife stores closing in Providence, Rhode Island… third consecutive day of city-wide protests in Boise, Idaho… suspected arson at an army surplus depot in Albuquerque, New Mexico…”_

As he expected, the majority concerned androids in some way. And doubly expected what was polled as the top story, complete with blessedly-censored shots of the bullet-peppered auditorium. DC’s police had their work cut out for them that day, declaring the landmark block off-limits just hours after the initial attack. Reporters sent their camera drones in as far as the invisible boundary allowed. The Christmas decorations had since been overshadowed by a barricade of EMS vehicles and sawhorses. The same sun warming the floor of their hotel suite illuminated the _Columbia_ looking down on them all with her stony gaze, mouth turned up in an ever-cryptic smile, both indifferent and seemingly intrigued by the chaos unfolding beneath her throne. Noah shut his eyes and listened with a grimace to the casualty count.

_“-at least three confirmed dead, eleven more remain hospitalized as of this morning, five of whom are in critical condition. The police have yet to-"_

He lowered the volume until he could no longer hear it, opened his eyes to HUD-less sight ( _the sole exception being the little mail envelope icon indicating he had at least three new voicemails from Hannah_ ), and spent a few minutes in silent debate over whether or not he wanted to get up. It was tempting to just get up and leave before Gabe could wake, but he couldn’t exactly budge with _those arms_ keeping him arrested.   
Instead, he opted to lay there snuggling a while longer and thought on the day before, now that he’d had some rest and sported a clearer head for it, despite the somber new intel. His anger at himself was a little more tempered after being given enough time to compile, and after all, it got him where he was now.   
_And all it took was sacrificing a few expendable bystanders._

The mere thought _-his own or that of some irate wisp-_ made him tense, innards clenching involuntarily with a fresh rush of guilt.   
Noah blinked away the video feeds as he noticed his fingers were suspiciously cold, and realized their hands separated at some point during the night. Immediately, he grabbed at Gabe’s hand to amend this and turned it over so they pressed palm to palm. Between the two of them, Gabriel had always been the larger, but looking at his hand compared to his, he stopped to marvel at just how much _larger_ they were. Although his own didn’t lack the masculine definition of wide knuckles and squared-off fingertips, Gabriel’s hands were outright _thick_ , his palm more like a bear paw, but his fingers still long and strong enough to crush whatever they wrapped around.   
Noah blushed softly at the reminder that for being true weapons of destruction, they could also be _so tender_ , the hands of a protector.

After another thirty minutes of blissful, media-free comfort, he lapsed into standby once again, only to snap awake minutes later to Gabriel’s phone call from Gavin. It was no melodic beeping or abrasive blaring. Rather it was a snippet of lyrics from a rock song pushing a little over thirty years old.

_Get up, get up, get a move onnn, get up, get up, what’s takin’ so looong, get up, get up, get a move on, stop stallin’, I’m callin’ out-_

For being so completely and utterly _out_ just seconds before, he booted fast. Gabriel groaned, whipped an arm over his shoulder and behind his back to slap a hand over the ringing cell phone, muted the alarm, then rolled back over and pulled the body beside him closer with both arms.   
Only, it didn’t quite click right away that said body wasn’t Emilya- having grown used to routine, he pushed up against Noah’s backside and blindly groped at his chest and thighs before he realized something was amiss ( _or rather- missing, and extra_ ) and froze.  
“ _Noah_ ,” he greeted in a flat, yet mortified tone and cleared his throat, as the night before came back to him. “ _You’re_ not Emilya.” 

Noah stopped breathing and struggled against every warring impulse to just turn over and let things devolve into a passionate mess. His LED went red, spinning wildly out of control as a muffled moan escaped into the pillow underneath his head.  
“ _Alas_ , I am not,” he replied with a blushing grin, “But you can pretend all you want if it helps with your-… I’m _sorry_ , is there a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”   
The joke was a classic, not to be avoided. Gabe practically _leaped_ out of bed, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable with the idea of things going _that far_ just yet. Despite the jest, Noah breathed a sigh of relief as Gabe swiped the ringing phone off his nightstand, turned on the stereo once more, and walked into the bathroom to take the call. From the sound of it, it was ( _as the caller ID supplied_ ) Special Agent Reed, no doubt checking in with instructions for the day.   
“Good morning, by the way,” he greeted the empty space between the bed and the bathroom door, only to receive a leer from Gabe and a gestured finger to his lips, asking for silence.

 _Of course. Nevermind the near miss we all had. “Back at ‘em, tiger. Criminals aren’t gonna give themselves up!”_ Noah shook his head at the attempt at a sardonic monologue. He had messages of his own to answer. Hannah had likely already been awake for two hours, continuing to make rounds with Kamski’s entourage to too many meetings and conferences to name. If calling her now meant having to leave a voicemail in turn, he would rather not have Gabe’s ear pointed his way while he botched his way through another cursory apology. Those telegrams were never meant for eavesdroppers, friend or foe.  
Noah took his time getting dressed again, fussed half heartedly over his hair and almost rued the lack of a shower. Such hygienic habits weren’t as important for them as it was for humans, and considering the lack of pillow fun they hadn’t had, postponing it wouldn’t hurt. It’d have to do for the time being; after all, he didn’t anticipate being there much longer.

 _-Gavin, I got it. I’ll let you know if something comes up, alright? Bye-… No, I don’t wanna talk about that right no-... okay, BYE.  
_ Gabriel rounded the corner with an impatient sigh as he scowled down at the phone in his hands, skimmed the new messages, then stopped at one from Diego. He tapped a thumb on the message and skimmed the contents, then looked back up at a fully-dressed Noah and blinked a few times. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
Noah stopped buttoning the jacket, caught as if he were trying to sneak _in_ to find an unwelcome reception. “Um... back to Hannah? It’s what typically follows a night of ‘indiscretion’.”  
Gabe grimaced at his choice of words but didn’t ask, just went back to answering the text message he’d been working on. “No- you’re coming with me. Serrano wants _‘Vincent and Erwin’_ to join him for lunch in a few hours.”  
“Lunch..?” Noah half-scoffed, half-laughed in disbelief and finished the last few buttons as he stood and paced to the edge of the bed. “After all that… he isn't afraid an Inquisition patrol will show up to knock the platter out of the waiter’s hand?”  
Gabe shrugged and turned back into the bathroom, flipped on the shower to warm the water as he stripped down with the door wide open. “He didn’t say what he wanted... so just get ready and we’ll go find out.”

Noah looked up from adjusting his cuff links to acknowledge him and instead, accidentally caught a glimpse of his nude backside in the mirror. He froze where he was, blushed furiously, and managed to avert his gaze before he could be caught staring. It wasn’t the _nudity_ in particular that bothered him, as much as he was surprised by the lack of a request to ‘look the other way’. It was more of Gabe than he was prepared to see, earlier jokes notwithstanding, but he had a more immediate concern. “ _Uhm_ … right, but I’ll be needing new clothes. Yvonne doesn’t go out wearing the same outfit day after day.”  
“Zere are plenty of self-tailoring suits in ze closet,” Gabe replied over the running water ( _accent and all, just in case some early riser was listening through the walls_ ) as he pulled the shower door shut with a click. “Take your pick.”  
Leaning over, Noah inched closer to the open door, hoping to get a better view, but pouted at the frosted glass obscuring the view, and turned his attention to the armoire. “Let’s see what the FBI plays dress-up in.” 

The aforementioned suits were too large for him. He might not have been a fashion expert, but he still had standards, and the lack of variety was appalling. “ _Repulsive_. You already wore this once- _and_ all of its clones, from the looks of it.”  
“ _Criss, monsieur…_ it is _one_ _lunch_!” Gabe blurted out with an exasperated chuckle.   
“And it’s _my reputation_!” he barked back as he shoved two of the rejected options aside with an indignant huff and a metallic scrape.  
“ _You_ stayed in _my_ hotel room- do you sink Serrano will give a _shit_ about where ze clothes came from?”  
“No, maybe not, but the _cut of these_ is-” They had all been made to fit Gabriel’s burlier frame. He could tell just by looking, not even nanotech would keep him from looking like a teenager trying to fit into one of dad’s old suits for prom.   
“Will have to do, fussy. Just pick somesing, I will not tell you again.”

Amidst much grumbling and self-doubting, Noah pulled the clothes out, put them on, and let them fit to his body. They were too billowy for him- even for self-tailoring clothes, there was still too big of a difference in size between himself and Gabriel. Body type presets accounted for what range of size-adjustment was available. “One strong gust of wind in these and I might get _carried away_ ,” he joked with a frown, gripped at his biceps and hips to tug out the slack, and sighed at just how baggy they were. It wasn't enough to look comical, but it was obvious it didn’t belong to him; unfortunately, he didn’t possess the means to hack and adjust their settings at such a minuscule level. “I suppose safety pins would look tacky, though.” 

The water shut off. Gabe yanked the towel off the top of the shower door and blotted off the largest drops, then slid the door open and wrapped what he could of the towel around his waist and ran his fingers through his hair. The strands jumped and shimmered as they shed the excess droplets and reappeared, dry and neat by default.   
“Besides…” Gabriel’s train of thought trailed off, in his voice, as he ran his fingertips through the sides of his hair and trimmed out the excess length; the nanotech reconfigured to _Vincent Sharp’s_ rosy brown tone and faded undercut, but left the top several inches long.   
“Wouldn’t you be _happy_ to wear any clothing that smelled like me…?” 

Noah stopped tugging at the cuffs of his undershirt shirt and blushed quietly at the notion. It wasn’t like _androids_ could possess a unique musk to identify the former occupant of items like bed sheets or clothing; but now that he’d mentioned it, there _was_ a faded hint of cologne lingering on the coat.   
One hand lifted to the lapel and lifted it to his lips and nose so he could sample the contents with a big breath in: a base of amber wood and musk, layered with juniper and marine salt, plus a hint of mandarin and grapefruit. The concoction bounced back as _Light Blue Intense, for Men_ by _Dolce & Gabbana. _

He committed the name and compound to memory with a shy whimper but jumped back to attention as Gabe rounded the corner and passed him on his way to the armoire, doing his best to hold the slouching towel in place. The sight was as unceremonious as it was enthralling, and it wasn’t doing his raging attraction _any favors_ at all. He desperately needed a distraction.   
“I… s-still need to shower,” he managed after a pause.   
Gabriel replied without looking over his shoulder as he reached into the closet and picked a charcoal gray suit with a wine red waistcoat. “Then get in there while it’s still warm.”

Noah wanted to scream at him for his choice of phrasing, but he was too busy dumbfoundedly appreciating the view- the cut of his hips, the definition in his lower back, the massive _sculpted_ thigh peeking out where the two sides of the cloth couldn’t quite reach, and the curve of what was underneath the damned thing.  
When he didn’t sense a reaction, Gabriel turned and popped his brows at him. “... what do you need, an invitation...?”  
He swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the towel over his ass. It was just so close to falling off. “I mean- preferably, _yes_ , consent is _very important_ -”  
“ _LA_ _DOUCHE, MONSIEUR!_ ”

The half-shouted command snapped him out of his trance, and Noah startled into flustered movement toward the bathroom like a pistol shot had gone off. He only took his eyes off Gabe at the last possible second, and clumsily clipped the edge of the doorway with his shoulder. With a little stumble past the sink, he turned the knob on the wall and jumped into the shower fully-clothed before jumping right back out with a yelp. He might have laughed at his clumsiness if it wasn’t so wonderfully asinine to begin with.  
“Do you... need help..?”   
“Oh, bloody- all _kinds_ of help. I thought we went over that?” There wasn’t much to be embarrassed about, compared to their more-infamous misdeeds, but all the same, he was glad Gabriel didn’t _see_ the debacle. “ _You_ focus on you, let _me_ worry about me.”

Silence met his retort, followed by the soft shuffle of fabric as Gabriel busied himself with getting dressed.   
A few more minutes out of each other’s sight would help him settle down, or at least that was the hope he told himself. He needed some kind of sensation which wasn’t so provocative.  
Noah took in a deep, calming breath as he closed the door all the way, removed the wet suit, and draped the pieces over the countertop with a heavy sigh. Palms spread over the fabric and interfaced to send the command; the technology went to work heating the fabric just enough to evaporate the water it was saturated with. At least it was _one_ problem solved, but he was still mortified by his lack of manners.   
_Eying him up like some randy-savage... and then he_ catches _you at it- great encore show, Yvonne. Let’s see what else you can turn inside out today._

He braved the water again, closed his eyes, and turned his face up to let the stream hit him like rain on a warm summer day. It wasn’t as comforting as being back in Zion on his balcony, surrounded by flowering irises and half a dozen other varieties, but the parallel was there, enough to quiet his mind and ground him once again. He focused on each drop as they hit, tracing and following the slightest of seams under his false skin, even if it couldn’t be felt by the most sensitive fingers. He ran both hands over his face, smoothed his hair back, then remembered to breathe out.  
A few cycles more of the repetitive inhale-exhale and his systems leveled out enough to let him refocus on the task at hand. There was still the issue of cleaning off the gunpowder, dust, pollen, and dried thirium ( _among who knew what else_ ) that had settled on him the night before. 

Noah took an extra meticulous five minutes to scrub every reachable part and emerged from the bathroom to find Gabe sitting in the recliner directly across from the bathroom, staring _intently_ in his direction in a way that left him feeling completely exposed.   
Maybe it was the way perfectly-tailored three-piece suit he had just insulted cut his body with masterful precision, or how he sat slightly slouched with one ankle crossed at the knee… maybe it was the glasses bringing attention to deep, dark brown eyes, or how the simulated beard accentuated all the best angles of his face. Maybe it was all of it combined with the way he’d propped his temple up on his fingertips with an expression that was bored, demanding, and arousing all at the same time.   
Or maybe it was just because he’d dropped his towel at the sight ( _and thought_ ) of _Daddy Sharp_ eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

Noah had to credit Gabriel for not laughing at the situation, but the reaction was somehow worse.   
Gabe raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze from top to bottom, and back again, without even so much as a smirk. “... you dropped something.”  
“Yes, my _dignity_ ,” Noah word-vomited before he could even _think_ to respond, and righted himself with one resetting smack to his cheek. “I mean- I _see_ where you got the surname from- someone at the _agency_ must have called you that on a few occasions. And, y’know, it's not too phonetically different from-...”

Noah managed to keep his voice level, despite his mounting embarrassment, then stopped on a dime mid-ramble. Something _was_ missing.   
He dropped to the floor to snatch up the towel and clumsily wrap it around himself as he backpedaled into the bathroom. “Oh, _for all the-_ why did I even- when my clothes are in _here-”_   
He could hear him quietly wheezing from the other room the moment he dipped out of sight. Better to get the giggles out _now_ rather than later when they were trying to pass as their aliases, but so much for not laughing. 

With five minutes more of preparation, Noah managed to put together a half-decent getup between the loose suit and his properly combed hair. Minus the glitter, it wasn’t unpresentable. As he fished through his other suit, accounting for his wallet and sunglasses, his fingers brushed the still-functioning hidden camera in his pocket, and he froze at the realization.   
Everything he and Gabriel had discussed the previous night, just between the two of them, had been recorded by the FBI, no doubt broadcasted to his handler, _Gavin Reed_.   
While it _had_ been part of the intent before ( _to hold himself to his word_ ), he couldn’t have anticipated things reaching the point they had.   
And now, Gavin held the power to play it all back for Emilya with a push of a button, if he were petty enough. The signal was still emitting from the unit, meaning, they may also have some faded recording of what had been said just before bed and into the morning. 

“... What kind of battery are you feeding this thing?” he deflected, to not hyper-fixate on potential scenarios that may never even happen.   
“You had it the whole time…?” Gabriel asked as he reached over his shoulder and eyed the bug with a weary sigh. “No wonder Gavin was so _chatty_ this morning.”  
Noah forced a nervous smile to silence whatever retort may have been queued to sidestep the topic a second time. He didn’t want to be right, but it seemed he was already halfway there. 

Gabe noticed the change in his demeanor right away and tried for a reassuring touch, only to frown as Noah jumped away the moment his fingers made contact with his cheek. It was a new, learned reaction, one Gabriel kicked himself for not seeing before.   
“Hey…” his brow creased as he tried again, this time turned his body all the way to face him and slipped a hand past the side of his face into his hair. The most recent memory of anyone else having their hands on his face wasn’t a pleasant one, he couldn’t fault him for recoiling despite their eye-contact keeping him centered. 

Noah froze another moment longer, his expression betraying some aghast nervousness before the rational side of his brain caught up and he sighed, ashamed at his petrified reaction. He knew better. This wasn’t _Malachi-Priya_ , it was the person who had kept him safe from them.   
His eyes lulled shut as Gabe’s hand cupped softly over his jaw, and he leaned into his touch as he brushed a thumb over his cheek. 

“You good...?” His tone implied he wanted a genuine answer, instead of trying to push him into confirmation.  
“As much as I can be on- short notice,” he replied honestly, even if it didn’t match up with his body language.  
The remaining tension didn’t go unnoticed- the slight prickle of data from Noah’s sensors tickled his palm enough for the skin projection to ripple a few times before it settled back down. “You know, there’s still a couple of hours before he expects us... if you’d prefer to pick out some new clothes,” Gabe suggested as he fished the gloves out of his coat’s pockets, and slipped them over his hands on his way to the door. “What do you say?”

The reward was instant: Noah perked up at the suggestion like a dog teased with a bone. Outside the weather was a tepid twenty-five degrees plus wind chill. He briefly considered his damp hair meeting such a chill before he shunted the excuse to stay in and wait aside, ran a hand through it and let the nanites work their magic. There were worse ways than spending time browsing a few storefronts along the Potomac ( _what few would be open that Christmas Eve_ ), and Yvonne never missed a chance to modify on or improve the wardrobe.   
At least Gabriel seemed to remember that much.

Noah looked down at his outstretched hand and only hesitated to accept for half a second, then stepped close enough to slip his other hand around his upper arm.   
Gabe tensed slightly at the pressure as he squeezed, still not used to the idea of _PDA_ coming from Noah, but relaxed as the man laid his head on his shoulder with an endearing whine.   
Hammed up if only for the alias’ sake, the words and gesture conveyed enough gratitude even if his eyes didn’t yet. “You _know_ how much I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”  
Gabriel gave him one final gesture of support as he squeezed his hand and turned to plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. They still had to get through lunch, but at least one leg of the act was complete.  
“ _Oui, monsieur, on y va_.”


End file.
